May All Demons Find Redemption
by Archangel of Dragons
Summary: Pitch does not plot or fight anymore, and his tormented mind simply desires rest. So he does for more than a year, keeping his Nightmares and Fearlings hidden so no one could blame him or them for anything that may happen. The world though, needs fear. Shape-Shifting Pitch X North; Slash. Will have darker features later.
1. C1 - Defeated

**Hello! This is Archangel of Dragons and I don't write fanfiction for two days and seven hours now! This is my lame attempt at writing something for Rotg, and thanks to TheChronicLiar and my soul mate Jeremy I made some sort of progress and found inspiration. **

**As I said before, it is lame so if you want to burn me, please, don't do it, I like life. Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, they belong to Dreamworks, and if they don't want some unhappy souls haunting them, they should do a sequel of the movie soon enough.**

**Chapter One – Defeat**

Defeated, those words felt wicked and absurd when leaving his mouth. He had pride, he had his powers, powers beyond imagination, stronger than the Guardians, yet, defeated. The Man on the Moon said it, he was stronger, but he would falter. He hated falter, hated the Moon for saying such thing, and even more for making it true.

Everything the MIM said seemed to become true anyway.

He yelled, not sure of what, mischievous, poisonous words, words that fell in ignorant deaf ears. It was like that at least, until that boy ran right through him. The feeling he didn't miss, but when someone walked through him it felt like water, he wasn't real, and a piece of him along of his air was pulled together with the human. It was all happening again, the dark ages' ending all over again.

If he was some normal spirit, like Jack Frost maybe, he would've cried, broke into tears, for not being seen was something, it didn't take neither wasted, it simply wasn't. But stop being believed, this was another thing completely different. His nightmares could smell the fear on him, but they would never attack and he knew it. He trusted the unnatural beasts that had taken just so much time and power to create.

He ran, for what? Shame. Anger. He never dreamed, unless in some sort of trap of Sanderson himself, but he constantly had nightmares. Nightmares were supposed to frighten, to scare and worry one, indulge the fear. But to the Nightmare King nothing of the sort happened, his nightmares instead were fairly useful, there was no way of taking fear from him, but they inflicted anger, kept his rancid nature working, his love for the dark arts of fear and hatred burning so it wouldn't end.

The nightmares saw fear and they were hungry, so, in a natural instinct they dragged their master as if it was prey, only to arrive at his Lair to be sent back to their places. Wounded but still fighting the Nightmare King sat on his throne, contemplating his failure like a prisoner. He wasn't locked; he knew that now he had contained the Nightmares he could easily surface again. But a defeat was a defeat; there was no point on surfacing.

Anger was long gone, he mused. The anger could be a great fuel to achieve anything, but now there was no target. He could fire his anger alone, but anger was like a scene, and existed no theater if there weren't watchers. His Nightmares weren't a crowd itself; they were a part of him, so never really counted as a crowd.

Alone, rejected once more.

It was like if it was made to never get past from this, he was indeed chosen to suffer and bleed, to be hated and disbelieved. Like the demons from the humans beliefs, their master, Satan, was the one everyone hated, everyone cursed. Was he too chosen to be cursed? Both seemed to have the same thing, a desire of independence and leadership, and because of that, cursed.

Cursed with the failure because of their strength and will to be best, to be independent. Because they didn't wanted to be defeated or slave of anyone. Was it a sin? Why it was a sin? The one to be blamed, he was made to be blamed, feared. And cursed by being what he was, not that he wanted it like this in the first place.

A dark angel, a demon, monster, it was what he was. He had fell, there was no pride now, no one to see. He should suffer on an unending hell of light, pay for his crimes, as all the darkness and evil should. In other times he would laugh, spit at the one who hated and were ashamed of themselves. Broken now, he could see, he wasn't different of them. In truth, he was the worst of them, the pettiest and filthiest of them, whimpering to mercy like a maggot on the dirt.

Dammed immortality. He could have been killed if he wasn't immortal. On the stories, it never mattered if the enemy was killed or defeated, the holy ones would shine anyway, goodness would fed the land once more, what became of the defeated no one cared, for it wasn't important. Real life though, was different. Enemies when defeated and not killed could machine more harm and evil, the Guardians were silly on sparing him and sealing him down, instead of following to slain the demon once and for all.

He was tired, he didn't want to machine anything again. He realized it was for nothing, he could never win. It was his curse, he was the stronger, the smartest, the most powerful, his plans had no flaws, but he was cursed to fail. Not that he wasn't capable of winning, no, by the logic and wisdom he was the eternal winner, the best of them all, but he could not win, higher strengths permitted him not.

He should have died. It would be easier, simpler; he would end his life with his pride, defeated in true, mighty battle. But he did not, he too couldn't die. He was supposed to suffer eternally, for there was need of someone to hate. Friendship could make people get along together, but hatred was even better. He should have died if the Man on the Moon had any sort of mercy, but he was merciless. He stopped thinking on the first person then, and went to the third instead.

This was a great theater, and when he should have died and ended the show, he did not. The show somehow was still happening, and the known action everyone wanted him to do was inhale, exhale, and work everything from the dirt to the mighty again. Stopping to think, he could be a good constructor one day, a man who made miracles from the dust and sand. But, yet, no such thing was to happen.

His feet dragged him to the black corridors, no use of sitting on a throne since he wasn't a king anymore. Nightmares looked expectantly to their master, but the lack of response and the dying aura seemed to be absorbed by the beasts as well, as their mourned their King before he even was slain. The door opened alone before him, revealing the bedroom, but the demon did not contemplate it.

He wanted to rest, but he wasn't worthy of the luxurious, large, dark, royal double bed in front of him, it was for the mighty, for the ones that, at least, still fought. He struggled no more though. Kneeling and crawling down he lay under the bed, the large silks and sheet of the bed keeping the light from reaching it, though the place had no light really. But to him, a creature of darkness, no darkness was enough.

His thin knees touched his chest and he lowered his head, permitting his chin to touch it and arms to warp around said legs. He was the Boogeyman; here was where he belonged, under the bed, inside of the closet, hidden. If he never got out, no one would come him pester him, would them? No, no light lower itself to call for darkness, even if it's just to hurt it further. If he stopped haunting, would be like if he was dead. And he wanted to be dead.

He was in safety then, and his silent order was passed through Nightmare to Nightmare, the haunting had to stop, they were defeated, they should annoy or scare no more. If hunger settled in, well, he had still his powers, he could feed his creations with them, his beloved creations would not starve. After all, he was a cruel deadly king, but inside his own halls, to his people he was fair, cared for them more than for his own.

Now he was dead, nothing else mattered. He understood it finally, and accepted. He was the monster, he was to be alone, hated and bleeding until the end of times. He got this and fought no more. Golden eyes flushed down, no more wanting to see the darkness, only rest and behave on his exile of no hope or brightness.

Exiled, the end of the night laid to suffer his demise, where and when no one could blame him for now on.

The Boogeyman was dead.

**Yeah, before you burn me alive because some sort of sympathy with Satan, I shall remind you that it is a reference and I assume Pitch would at some time within this plot, think something of the sort, since their targets were basically the same, ascent to power. I meant no offense for you if you're religious or something, and poetic licenses permit me to write such things. I won't mention it again, and if you think it is unrespectful or something of the sort, you know how to leave.**

**If you liked it though and don't care about the religious reference, review! Bring cookies to Jeremy and cake for me, and more importantly, say to TheChronicLiar that I love her.**


	2. C2 - Interference

**Jeremy annoyed me very much, so here, have another chapter. I want to thank you, reader, for reading the first one and if you leave a review in the end, thing I'm 76% sure you didn't last chapter, I will give you a hug. Once again, all thanks goes to TheChronicLiar and Jeremy for their lovely support. Go show Liar some love!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dreamworks yet, but Jeremy promised me if he got billionaire overnight or married the owner of Nespresso he would buy it for me, and I believe on his promises. Never give up.**

**Chapter 2 - Interference **

- 18 months later -

North frowned on his workshop, his fingers worked on his toys, but his mind was elsewhere. He was worried, anyone could tell, he didn't even yell at Phil for not knocking. The situation was currently far more worrying than the yeti breaking in his workshop.

With sadness the Guardians had added another candle on the hall. It was sad to even have to light the first one. A child had died, drowned on the school's pool. It was already the thirty seventh since the last year. What made those deaths different though, was that they weren't able to do nothing against it. It was part of the mayhem that appeared lately.

Mayhem? There was no other name besides that. Children since their fight, the defeat of Pitch, seemed to be safe from fear. It was a great thing of course, then it started to grow, no nightmares anymore, to anyone, and children became suddenly fearless. No one knew how it had started, or where, or precisely when, but it had. Children no longer feared high places, fire, strange people, animals, dark, water, nothing. Fear vanished completely from their souls.

Not only those fears, but they also feared no more disappointing their parents, no more feared failing on a test, no longer feared nothing at all. So many didn't study before tests, coming then to a mass failing on the schools, they no longer respected their parents, for they didn't feared disappointing them. It was all madness, and even if they tried to speak with children, it simply didn't enter their minds.

He knew not what to do. He had still six months to Christmas, with Jack's help he was, in truth, forward, he could even sit and relax. But not with all the children being hurt, being harmed. He couldn't stand it no more.

"I don't know what to do MiM, and believe me, I have tried everything." The Guardian of Wonder exhaled, exhaustion and defeat crawling inside of his soul.

He was sincere and true, he indeed tried everything, but no success or clue on anything. The Guardians were doing everything they could, busy from a day to another, Jack helping as he could, bringing winter to at the world on the correct seasons and protecting children. North was destroyed; he would do anything there was need to be done, if he at least knew what he should do!

A sound was heard and North jumped, thinking that he accidentally had broken one of his toys. He frowned, seeing nothing broken or at least that moved at all. The wind got inside by the windows, and he got up, the windows weren't open before, and in the poles, letting it open could be dangerous, and also it filled the place with snow.

He closed them, or at least tried, as he noticed the windows couldn't connect and close well. The wind showed no mercy while he was at that. It was when his vision settled better, and on the window he could see something keeping it from closing. He picked the tiny thing and closed the windows. His boots made puffed sounds as he walked to his worktable. Under the work light he could see it better.

It was one of his toys, and at the same time it wasn't. It was one of those dolls he showed Jack Frost, he had one of himself and made one of the Guardian of Fun as well, but this one he was sure no one had done, and he certainly hadn't. It was a black one, its borders were silver, but the silver almost existed not with the deep blackness on it. The person who it was made though, could not be misplaced. It was Pitch Black.

The doll was the smallest one, the one that should be on the center, and on it Pitch held two scythes, crossed in front of his chest like some sort of dark pharaoh, his eyes pierced with such detail the depths' of the Guardian's mind, golden irises seemed to follow the Russian, and the snarl the Boogeyman had was strong, undying, yet, true. Like some sort of inevitable consequence, a punishment that he could not hate, for it was true, the feeling it gave was that it had reason of being, that, at the end, it was but North's fault.

He couldn't understand, if it was Pitch's core, what it meant? Threatening? Savagery? He understood not. He moved and on the base of it he could see an inscription, so small in truth, silver on black, that he had to pick up glasses. He then stared, and read it carefully.

"Safety...?" The Russian said and frowned at it. Looking again, he could at least understand the fashion. The scythes crossed on his chest meant defense, like if he was towering like an Egyptian statue of a god, guarding a tomb with his treasures and hoards. The snarl on his face was typical, yet was like a dog's warning when getting closer of his area. Possessive. It was possessiveness.

North's eyes went to the window, and even with the snow and wind outside, he clearly could see the moon. His lips curled on a slip, it was the Man on the Moon's doing, certainly. He understood nothing, how could Pitch's core be safety, the meaning he could not grasp, but he could see the hint. Pitch was the answer, to good or bad, he could be the answer.

The Russian wrote a note and left it over his worktable, for the case if something wrong happened, and with Pitch's doll on his pockets, he threw a snow globe and went through it, it was probably an awful idea, but it was a clue and he had to check it not mattering how dangerous it could be. Better than doing nothing at least.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

He had to search really hard to find it, following the description of Jack of course. If he hadn't the description on the first place, he would have never found it. A broken, mattress less bed on the middle of a forest, not too far from Burgess it seemed. The grass had grown around it, but not under the bed, leaving a circle around the skeletal bed like if it had some sort of sickness around it.

Even the threes around it were creepy, felt like if it was a no man's land, a never-ever, frozen in time forest. Pushing the bed aside North started his work. It was simply really, he just had to dig a single meter, before the hole showed itself, unending darkness on the depths of it, and like an dark magic it called for him, pulled him closer, calling him to bend over it and try to see more. In true, it was a dark magic, he was dealing with Pitch's Lair. He mused if he should climb it down, but since it was dark like ink and he couldn't tell how deep it was.

But while he thought, he hadn't seen his surroundings, and when he did it was simply too late. The Nightmare had its back turned to his, and when he turned, it hit directly his belly, sending him to the hole without second thought. He could feel himself falling, it was like an eternity, but in truth was hardly more than a second as he meet the floor.

"Hello?" He called, jumping to his feet, and giving a good look around. He seemed on a black and white movie, the light that came from somewhere was white but insufficient to illuminate the whole place. Enormous cages were on the ceiling on different heights and unending stairs, corridors and ways seemed to cut the whole place on a maze's shape.

"Damn Pitch, you have a whole city down here." North said, though his voice had amusement. He hadn't seen anything of the sort on his whole centuries of life, and neither had seen someone with the mind to do such thing. It was frightening and dark, as the city was in perfect conditions but had no life or light from nowhere, even with he strange light, he could see few things, as it was dark and at the same time, clear.

Everything was there, yet, it was just too much information, too detailed to come to an understanding, principally because of the lack of color, he couldn't choose what to see and appreciate. There was only black and white. The intricate way of the forgotten town had sense though, shadows connected with other shadows and they were constant, they would be there not mattering from where the light came, and they were only centimeters from the ones they couldn't connect.

To Pitch, who phased and teleported when on the shadows, it was just what he needed. The large man smiled, Pitch wasn't dumb, but the opposite. In his realm, the Nightmare King indeed ruled. North moved around and his eyes laid on a throne. He was surprised to have not noticed it before. It was shadowy and spiked just like his master, it was above of the city, and around it many, many corridors. It seemed it was there so he could watch the cages.

North shrugged with the thought, it wasn't strange coming from Pitch, he had a historic of kidnapping children, what kept him from kidnapping them, putting his Nightmares to torture them, and simply sit there, feeding himself on their fears? A chill ran down his spine, nothing really kept the Nightmare King from doing it; it was almost absurd if he did not.

And it was the focus of his intrusion, why Pitch seemed to have disappeared? He couldn't have died simply, and even if he did, his Nightmares would still go hunt dreams, for their own survival. But not even it happened. North made his way slowly to the throne, and when almost touching it, a sound called his attention. He turned around, swords on hands, and faced a Nightmare.

It was doing nothing really, only staring, glaring, as it lowered its head but didn't broke eye contact. It didn't advance, didn't attack, simply stared, with disturbing golden eyes, magical shiny golden eyes, which only lost for their master's. It was the difference between the golden eyes of Pitch and the golden sand of Sandy.

Sandy was yellow, golden, shined but yet was modest, sincere. Pitch wasn't pure, was disturbingly shiny, evil and powerful, only the glow of arrogance and control, like golden coins, the stolen one was always the brighter, calling for the watcher, for if you was staring at them, was because you were strong enough to. It challenged further, asking to be grabbed and treasured.

While staring at this golden appeal no thought seemed straight, as it used your weaknesses to get you to it, your fears, and too your strengths. If you were strong, it would assure you that you, from anyone else, were more than able to wield it, if you're intelligent, it would suggest for you to protect it from others that hadn't your knowledge, and would use it with worth. It was wild, untamed, powerful and its own. It was dragon's fire, while Sandy's was an butterfly's whisper.

"Alone? I don't think so. Where are the others? Or your King?" He asked, and the only answer it did was to pawn the floor, to Pitch, maybe it made sense, but to North it meant nothing at all. The thing whinnied longly, a creepy, absurdly high-pitched sound, before it turned around and looked at North.

"What? I'm not Pitch, I don't understand your whines." He said, and the thing walked two steps inside the tunnel, almost stepping inside the darkness and making impossible tell the difference between it and the shadows, and stared again at North. The Russian, somehow, understood it.

"Follow you? Why should I trust you? Hey, wasn't you who kicked me inside in the first place?" North asked, and the Nightmare whinnied again, this time more nervous though. It had hurry, the Russian mused. He sighed and picked a flashlight, before walking to it.

As he moved it started to move too, the shadow horse had the size of a real one, and not the simpler ones, but an Breton itself, though the frame of it was skinny, so, to define the breed, a Pure-Blood or an Arabic. The supposed-to-be muscles of the horse were only shadows, but yet he could see it moving gracefully to a side and another when walking, the mane wasn't the longest, but seemed always on the wind, like a black fire creeping and burning on its back. It reflected Pitch somehow, the things were so like him.

The corridor seemed without ends, he walked and walked, but seemed to be walking on a treadmill instead. Doors and arcs were on the sides and ahead, but no end seemed to come or hint that he had moved at all, except for the large double doors of ebony and turns it made, sometimes going to ends with three or more other tunnels, sometimes the tunnels had stairs, became large enough for an elephant pass, or tight enough that he almost had to walk on his sides.

He was marking the way, he did not trust the Nightmares not even a bit, so on the way he was leaving small lights behind, small balls that glued on the floor and glowed white. He walked for, what, he could say at least ten minutes, before something on the front of the Nightmare glowed. Two golden eyes stared back, and as North moved his flashlight, it was another Nightmare.

The other Nightmare simply stared, while the one who was guiding him raised his head in defiance and pawned, like if it contested the other. The another head rose, just by the end of the corridor, and then another, and another, and when he blinked, there was at least seventy pairs of golden eyes staring at him, there would be more, if he could see further on the darkness. His guide raised its front pawns and whined strongly, defying definitely.

"A trap? You brought me to an ambush?" North asked, and the Nightmare argued on its way, turning to face him and hitting the floor with his pawns. North could see it didn't mean to ambush him, and was currently trying to make his way through the others. But think was a thing, and really trust the Nightmare was another.

The Nightmare that was guiding him whined to the others once more, and the first one that appeared shook its head calmly, before stepping a bit aside. North was shocked when he finally understood, it was giving the way. The others seemed to comprehend somehow, and slowly, like lava moving itself, they walked to the sides, opening an corridor on the middle of themselves.

His guide looked at him and North understood, getting better at this and walking behind it, as the Nightmare proudly walked through the others. The golden eyes pierced his soul with hatred and distrust, some advanced a bit like if they would attack, but did not, and others lowered their heads, not in respect but only without desire of fighting. Others stared at him, immobile, except for their horsetails that moved to a side and another, expecting something he could not understand exactly what.

He walked a bit more before his Nightmare stopped in front of a large door, made of nothing less than ebony, large, double, heavy, but rich and fine doors, the first end he found, here was where the corridor ended. The border of the door seemed to reflect the light of his flashlight, and when he moved closer, he could see, it was the only door that had small borders of gold, building a frame of skeletal trees that mixed themselves and disguised as fingers, it was absurdly terrifying in its way, and at the same time gorgeous, like a sacred, golden, meticulously crafted torture tool.

"What's on the other side?" I asked, and the other Nightmares whined in protest and anger, disturbed maybe for North's ignorance. The one who guided him though minded not, only lowered its head and touched the floor a bit, calm and assuring in its way. The Russian pondered about it, it seemed so much like a trap, yet, it seemed not. He, though, came here for answers, and wouldn't leave without them. With the flashlight on one hand and the sword on the other, he pushed the door open.

It was absurdly light for an ebony door, though touching it was no less but ebony, strong and smooth, cold and threatening, but yet strangely warm. The light of the flashlight moved to a side and another, revealing the most dark and elegant room he had ever seen. It was the kind of room that seemed an apartment itself, and was definitely bigger than many. It had couches of leather and a large fireplace, turned off too many time ago.

The room seemed to hide most of its walls with bookshelves, though none held titles or saying, which got him the impression that the books on there were only the ones being currently read, and on those corridors back then, a whole library would exist far bigger than anything else around. The closet didn't have doors and was huge, the kind that was a room itself. Moving the flashlight to there, he could see endless clothes on their own hangers and racks, and enormous mirrors.

There weren't lamps on the room, though the place had torch racks in some places, though the torches seemed longly gone. The middle of the room was where the most precious thing was held. Not even him had such large bed, and seemed injustice how such slim frame such as Pitch had such an large bed. It was at least two meters and a half of length, and at least two and twenty on the sides. It was like _immortal-master-king _double bed, really high from the floor and absurdly soft.

Or at least North thought and he so strongly fought the urge of jumping on it to find out. It had black sheets and plenty pillows, it was big enough for three men like North sleep on it, and at least ten Pitches. He touched the bed and sighed, he wanted a bed like that, it was basically calling for him to get it for himself, but he was no thief anymore. But he needed one still.

He looked around, but the room seemed empty. The Nightmare walked at his side and he jumped when noticing it there. He hadn't seen or heard it entering at all. The creature lowered its head and stared at him expectantly, just like many others before on the corridor, it was waiting for him to do something. What, he knew not, but he almost could see the plea on the creature's golden eyes.

"I don't understand, what you want me to do?" North asked, and he stared at the entrance of the master bedroom. He had only opened one of the doors, and only enough for him to pass, but the Nightmares had opened the rest completely. They stared at him, even the one _-or at least he thought it was the same one- _who had stood against him and the Nightmare that brought him.

The one on the door gave a step forward and moved his head, like if asking the one who guided him to continue, to hurry up. The one at his side seemed to nod at that. It lowered more its head at the point of touching the floor, and then moved to touch the feet of the bed. It touched it few times, before the Russian could understand, and putting the flashlight on the floor, pointing at under the bed, he lay down and rose the sheets.

At first he saw nothing; he couldn't tell if the darkness he saw was of the wall more than two meters far, or simply few centimeters far from him. His the flashlight wasn't aimed to the middle perfectly, so North had to tight his eyes so he could at least try to see something on the absolute darkness. Seconds passed and he thought about getting up, when it happened.

On the dark two dots shined, first only strips, and then raising slowly until it settled on him. Golden rings with darkness both inside as outside stared at him back, though stare was a strong word, for the eyes seemed half lidded and they didn't focused on him, not even a bit, they stared at another dimension which he couldn't see. North jumped back, terrified, as he breathed and tried to understand. He became even more terrified when he noticed what it was.

"Pitch! Pitch, what... what happened, what are you going?" He asked, and those golden eyes stared, and moving the flashlight he could start to see knees not far from his chest, arms hugging them, and the rest he could not define. A grey nose rose from the middle of the knees and he finally understood which position the Boogeyman currently was. Acknowledging don't made it better though.

"Answer me dammit! What happened, what is going on?" He asked once more, and the Boogeyman left his head touch the floor as he stared. Pitch was always prideful and straight, elegant in every second and controlled. Now, though, there was only the shell of it, as the Nightmare King seemed to be under the effect of drugs. He was pale, almost as white as Jack Frost, but his ability of meddling with shadows made that whiteness not easy to be found. His lips fell open, as if he had no strength to keep them closed.

"North... you all came after me... why...?" He muttered, and those black pupils suddenly dilated, some sort of fear, and yet, it was not. It was worry, even so weak, he was absurdly worried and ready to fight. Or at least argue, even with his voice now being nothing more than a whisper that the Russian had to suffer to hear. "Oh no... did you killed my Nightmares...? Why...? I'm sure they did nothing to you..."

North broke at the words, there was so much hurt on Pitch's voice, weak and feeble, and when the Boogeyman closed his eyes the Russian almost jumped to see the man disappearing and appearing again, like an image on a television with static. He was fading. He had never seen a spirit fading, but he had heard of it before. And Pitch was fading right in front of his eyes.

"No, I'm alone and I didn't harm any of them, in truth, is thanks to them that I was able to find you in the first place. Pitch, come on, get out of here, yes?" North said, trying to sound convincing and at the same time, letting all his frustrations go out. The golden irises lowered and his knees moved closer of his face, he didn't wanted to, and North suspected he even couldn't. He was so weak that seemed to me a miracle he was awake.

"No! No Pitch, hear me okay? Don't close your eyes, look at me." He said, almost pleading, Pitch was no good man, but yet, there should be other ways, he couldn't simply leave the world like that. He blinked, and that seemed to last ages before he opened his eyes again. He didn't even stare at the Russian's direction anymore, only stared down and down... his lids followed the movement and wouldn't be far away for him to slip out from his fingers.

"But I'm so tired... Why are you here...? I have been quiet, I did nothing wrong this time... even when I am no longer a threat you Guardians still hunt me down..." He muttered, completely emptying his lungs of hair for the inhale he did just after. Hunt down? It was like that he thought of the Guardians? But in truth he was the one to start it, it was all to stop him from harming children and controlling the world. He felt that, somehow, there was yet something to uncover, not one something, but many in truth.

"I know you're tired, but hear me okay? Keep talking with me, here, give me your hand." He said, putting his hand under the bed and missing for centimeters the knee of the Boogeyman. Pitch stared at him and simply shook his head, pulling his knees far from the reach of the Guardian of Wonder. This was frustrating North immensely, but more than frustrating it was worrying him. What on the name of Wonder was going on?

"No, no no no no... Come on Pitch, down play the hard to get, I can't exactly reach you or move this bed somewhere." North said with a sigh, and the golden eyes blinked, but returned at him. At least for some seconds they did, before Pitch closed them again and his whole frame shook, disappearing and appearing again. He had to act quickly, if he had hope of saving the Nightmare King from himself.

"Just leave me alone... is what I deserve isn't it...? Alone forever... hiding under beds and closets... as all darkness must be." The Boogeyman said, and the end of his voice was assuring, true somehow. North's heart seemed to be shot down like an lesser beast, he couldn't believe it, the Nightmare King currently believed on it, it was evident on his voice, clear as crystal. Golden eyes seemed to shine more, and lowered in some sort of shame.

"No, no one deserves to be alone, to hide under beds or whatever, who said it to you?" North said it, his work was comforting, but the second the words left his mouth he regretted it immensely, from the bottom of his soul. Golden irises were hidden under pale lids with some sort of strength, the strength that a dying man should use to survive; he used to hold his own shown of weakness.

"You Guardians said it... It's true... I can finally see... That's why I'm here; I promise I will bother no more... I'm doing nothing wrong... am I?" Pitch asked lowly, as if he feared the answer. North could not stand it anymore he had never seen such thing before, such amount of pain and suffering on the same place, on a person he had never seen in a state at least close to that.

"No Pitch, you have been a good boy lately... or at least not a bad one it seems." North said, he had no idea if Pitch had some sort of side on this strange mayhem, but he knew better than hurt the Nightmare King further. Pitch nodded calmly, messing the black spiked hair, which stayed sprayed and open like an trail at Pitch's head side.

"So I thought... keeping the Fearlings and Nightmares make them uneasy... and hungry. They're lucky I have been able to feed them... with my own... not that it matters of course." Pitch said, though on his voice there wasn't arrogance or a single try of making it dramatic or anything. He was simply commenting, like if it was definitely not something important at all. Color drained completely from North's face at such statement.

"You were holding them all this time?! All of them?! That's... That's why you're fading of course; you're without source of strength, and being drained by those things!" North said, almost jumping from where he was and pushing the bed with all the strength it could muster. Of course it had to be heavy.

"Beware how you talk of my Nightmares..." Was all he heard of Pitch before the bed started to budge, and when he blinked, both the Nightmare who guided him and the oppositor of the corridor placed their heads under the bed and helped pushing it. It made sense then why they helped him to arrive here on the first place, they wanted their lord to be saved, helped.

He was careful so the dark lithe man wouldn't be hurt, but thank the Man on the Moon he was far from any feet or side, consequently not being harmed by any of them. The bed was out of the way and he kneeled down, and he touched the Nightmare King for the first time in his life maybe. His clothes were soft as cotton and yet unforgiving as silk, flawless, by touching or eye one couldn't tell what they were made, but surely was a thing he wished he had alike. Mobile, silent, comfortable but also strong enough to not be tangled around like silk or destroyed easily on a fight.

The Guardian of Wonder grabbed the oppositor, scared to find out he was light, no difference at all from Jack's weight, and even more scared by the fact that his legs, his thighs, weren't thicker than the Russian's arms. Was he always like that or it was just lately? He didn't want to know. Pitch's head rolled and his forehead laid on his chest, half lidded eyes barely living rolled around, like if he couldn't understand what North did. The case was worse than he thought.

This was when the Nightmare King broke. Shaking hands were brought closer to his chest in some sort of protective way, eyes became watery, and the Guardian was frozen there. He never thought one day he would see something like that, but when that day arrived, he couldn't feel worst, even worse than if it was of an innocent's or a friend's. His enemy's tears burned him, tainted his soul with despair, fear and pain, he would give his own soul if it could stop that... he didn't even had words to describe. It was beautiful, and the most terrible thing he ever lived to see.

"No, I have done everything for you to forget me! I did nothing wrong this time! You can't hurt me without a reason!" He said, using all his strength to sound coherent and fight his tears, shaking hands tried by all means to hide them, weak and dishonored, and like a child he so much frightened he feared for his destiny. It was against everything on North, hear that someone even merely _thought_ he would harm another. He held the Nightmare King closer, hugging him and probably being more scared or hurt than the lithe man himself.

"I won't hurt you, never, ever, ever, if you don't give me reasons to. You're safe; just stop crying for the Moon's sake." The Guardian of Wonder muttered as he could, the body of the Boogeyman fading from his arms and appearing again more than twice and keeping that frantic pace. How could he let Pitch, a dark evil man indeed, but a living creature nothing less, get to such point he could not stand. Guardians were supposed to protect other spirits as well.

"Shhh, calm down... little ones." Pitch's voice was but a whisper, and the Russian raised his eyes to see with what he spoke to. "Keep with me."

The fragile hand of the dying Nightmare King fell, touching the muzzle of the Nightmare, the same who guided him, and the creature left out a soft, sad cry of despair and worry. The hand faded and appeared again, like some sort of flickering light, and North simply knew he hadn't much time less. Managing to hold the man without one of the hands, North grabbed one of his snow globes on his pockets and threw it on the wall.

The eyes of the Nightmare King failed and closed, as the same time as the portal opened. The Nightmares disagreed, for their pawns hit the black floor with strength, but no one moved. They knew what the best was. North sighed and stared at the Nightmare that helped him and was the one Pitch spoke with. He hated, repeating, hated staring or at least knowing of the existence of those creatures, yet he couldn't put himself to hate that one, when it only helped him and kept him safe.

"You heard your king, come with me, make company to him. He will need it." The Guardian said, and the Nightmare whined loudly, and like if he was dealing with Sandy, he could almost hear the thing speaking. Of course, it don't trust him _that_ much.

With that North simply inhaled and entered the portal, the Nightmare following closely behind, in proud but silent strides, just behind the Guardian of Wonder and a fainted, fading and dying Nightmare King. North could only hope it wasn't too late, it mattered not what he was or what Pitch did, he would fight for the man's recuperation like of one of his own.

**Cliffhanger? Yep, burn me now. I was bored so I said to myself, why don't I post it now and go to sleep? It seemed a good idea, and since the first step is done I must proceed to the second. Review, and I will give you an invisible coin.**


	3. C3 - Greetings and Farewell

**I'm back with chapter three, and I must say I'm very disappointed. 200 views, but only 2 reviews (Liar's doesn't count). I am depressed. I will post chapters as long as people review, come on people, you don't even need an account to review, I swear I will answer and speed up the next chapters if you guys review. Yet, Thanks to Takeno and Katori22, who didn't fear the review button. Now we go!**

**Disclaimer: My attempts of owning it with my mind powers have failed, so does Jeremy's about meeting the owner of Nespresso and properly court him.**

**Chapter 3 - Greetings and Farewell.**

Chins touched the floor when the Russian came out of the portal. Evidently the time on Pitch's Lair ran differently than in others places; the same was on his workshop when he was late to Christmas. Sometimes running faster than the world, others slower.

In Pitch's Lair, it seemed it was running quicker when he was there. It was the only explanation for the others Guardians being on his workshop, he probably was too much time out, yet not enough for them to search for any note on his office.

"North where have you been... is that Pitch Black?" Tooth said, in her over active way of being. She moved to see closer, and almost yelled when Pitch faded just in front of her eyes, just to appear again. They probably have never seen any other spirit fading it seemed.

"The one and only." North grunted, both in worry and the glances he received from the others Guardians. Jack flew almost over the Nightmare King, his face full of worry like if the lithe man was but his older brother.

"What's happening on him? Why is he... flashing?" Jack asked, his voice had all the worry and innocence of a child, but the anger that was on his face after was of no youngster. North looked around, and stared at his own shadows, the nights were good and fair; no one else had a shadow on the room, except for North. He held his smile, Pitch's creature was smart.

"He is fading, and no one fade on my watch, explanations can wait." North said, ignoring the glances for a moment as he turned to his own shadow. "Go out, if you somehow can help him, do it."

The Nightmare rose from the shadows and pawned the floor in rage, making everyone jump, but North's glare made they lower their weapons. The Nightmare surprised the Guardians by not minded them not the slightest bit, its eyes were only on the sleigh rider, drinking of his words like if it was but his new master. And yet, it didn't agree with what the Russian said.

"Forget what your master said. Sometimes we need to do what one needs than what one wants." North said, he knew that the Nightmares probably knew how to help far more than he, yet they couldn't, Pitch had ordered the Fearlings and Nightmares to keep hidden. The Nightmare whined in defiance, but lowered its head at the end, disappearing on a cloud of black sand.

"Sandy, when that one returns, people don't turn it on dreams, da? I believe that one may be the last change of Pitch here." North muttered, before he walked to the rooms, seeking one he could put Pitch on, so the Nightmare King could rest without light or further bothering of someone else. He was conscient of the Guardians following him, Sandy flashed questions, but he answered none.

Jack stood ready to fight any of the sides, both if Pitch had hurt him, or even if he had hurt Pitch without reason. Bunnymund followed quietly, though his fingers touched the boomerangs constantly, like if he waited for the smallest movement so he would attack. Toothiana followed nervously, he hated Pitch as much as everyone else, but she couldn't stand see someone hurt or an fading spirit. Even if this one was no one less than Pitch Black.

North walked calmly and entered the room, it was a common guest room, it had a large double bed, closet and coat racks as much as every room needed. He just wished Pitch wouldn't find the bed just too small, seeing what he was used of.

The slim, lithe and dark body of the Boogeyman rested almost weightless on the mattress, the painful scowl the man held was what worried North the most though. He softly moved to cover the body of the Boogeyman, even if he showed no signs of feeling any cold, North Pole was cold and the lightest sickness at this time could be lethal to the fear spirit.

Ending all the lights and closing the door, the Russian checked by the last time the Boogeyman, right now there wasn't too much he could do. He wasn't Pitch, he couldn't bring fear back to Earth so it would feed the Nightmare King, he had to trust the Nightmare would return and, somehow, help.

"Explanations would be nice." Aster was the first to speak, crossing his arms. Even with his cold, annoying and more than once cruel with the unfamiliar, there was worry under his eyes. Maybe not for Pitch, but for North or their own safety.

"I guess you're right." North said and, by some way, the doll which represented Pitch's center weighted on his pocket, he somehow couldn't bring himself to tell about it, Manny gave it to him and no one else, if he wanted the others to know he could have showed them as well.

"I went to Pitch's Lair, this whole thing is happening for the lack of fear, so I had to try Pitch. When I arrived there a Nightmare dragged me inside, and lead me by the corridors. I found Pitch there, fainted, fading, barely speaking." He explained calmly, expecting his words to don't fall on deaf ears that would accuse him of treachery.

"What he said?" Tooth asked, by the pace of her wings, she seemed truly scared about Pitch's well-being. She was sincere, though North couldn't shake out the feeling of guilt, if Pitch was like that, was their fault and no one's else. At the same time, he had it coming, trying to take over the world or something. At the same time, would it happen in the first place if they didn't ignore and hurt him in the first place, banishing him to under beds and within closets?

"He was a mess, but constantly asked if I had killed his Nightmares. He cares immensely about the beasts. He also asked why I was after him since he had done nothing wrong. He said he kept the Nightmares and Fearlings within his lair so no one could blame him for anything, he fed the beast with his own source of power, but it became his end consequently." North explained, though the more he thought about it, the more he became worried.

"Why would he do that? He isn't stupid; he knew perfectly that such thing could lead to his fading." Tooth said, and Sandy signed over his head something close to _'Pitch is a strange man, when down, his actions can be dangerous'_.

"I don't know, but he seemed only... nyet, I don't know. Tired, worried about his Nightmares, but except for that, he seemed to care not. He just wanted to not be hurt or something of the sort. He was groggy though, he couldn't even tell if I was alone or had someone with me. I wonder if he recognized me at all." The Russian said, and Aster simply sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I don't like this, but no way we can just leave him there." The Bunnymund said, and that won a bone crushing hug from the Russian. Jack smiled, floating just at Tooth's side, as he made an assuring smile. Sandy gave two thumbs up and smiled heart-fully in answer, like if it was his plan all the time.

"True, besides the fact that I have a great feeling about this, I think it would be great to have Pitch around, I am sure he can surprise you guys." Jack said and that won a question mark of Sandy and a muffled _'What?'_ from Bunny, who was trying to get out of North's deadly bear hug.

"Well, he and I are kind alike, and believe me, I am sure the worst will be you guys getting along with him than him with us. After all, I think he lived alone just too much time by now." Jack said and while Bunny gave him an disapproving look, the others seemed fine about it. North simply couldn't be happier, there was hope of making things right, finally.

"I'm okay, but there is one condition that I won't open my hand of." Tooth said as serious as she could get, and all eyes were turned to her. "I want to have a look at those teeth, have you guys seen it?! Despairing! They are grey!"

They all laughed at that, and North smiled even more. There was a change to make things better, and he wouldn't open his hand from it as well.

_XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Two weeks later XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX_

A whole week flashed like some sort of lightening, and at least some light was entering North's heart. Was of routine to come and sit by Pitch's room, see if he had returned to fading, or it had stopped at once.

Everyday his Nightmare would come, almost at the same hour every day, after noon but not before the six, its head would lie close to Pitch's, the beast and the man never would look as peaceful on their day than when they meet. It was beautiful and hopeful, and at the same time so sickening sad.

For a year and a half Pitch had fed the beasts, and now his faithful friend returned the favor. The thing traveled the world all the twenty four hours of the day feeding from children's dreams, so it wouldn't feed on Pitch, but instead fed its master. It was a totem of loyalty, one he hadn't seen in ages, showing that even on the darkest caves laid loyalty and gratefulness. The Nightmare that walked after noon on the workshop became common seen and respected, as it respected back.

Who could sacrifice a heart of gold? Was the question that forgot to leave North's head. Elegant and smooth, so like an angel, but yet the ghost of his tears still were fresh on his mind. Everything on Pitch, when his defenses weren't seen, couldn't be more elegant and peaceful, beautiful like a gift of the skies. How he wasn't able to see it before?

Pitch was a spirit, nothing less, he had problems, flaws, fears and loves, yet all his reasons and things were ignored when the title of villain was put on him, like a heavy mark on his forehead. Was like if he was freed of any kind of humanity or feeling besides anger when such title was given.

At least it looked like it, everyone acted as such thing was true, but it wasn't. There was feelings and humanity on him, but no one believed on it. Such lack of faith made even him believe on it, believe he was an untiring devil.

A soul just like his, like Jack's, like everyone else's, and yet sacrificed because of the title of enemy. North decided he would not let it happen again, he would mend the mess Pitch was now back to his self, not the former, cold one, but a good darkness instead, bring comfort to darkness so it would stop being only something to fear and became too an source of protection. He felt it was what Manny tried to say at the first moment.

Darkness isn't only danger, but also safety, a wounded and frightened person may hide on the dark from his attackers, would trust on the dark coat of the night and lack of light to shield him from further harm. He could see hope for Pitch, he could see happiness, he could try to mend him again, except for two facts that seemed to make everything harder than he would want it to be.

The fact that Pitch wouldn't permit such thing, no one was allowed inside his defenses, a self-protection source, and of course, the fact that he had not even the slightest idea of how get closer without making the Nightmare King flinch, flee into the shadows far from his reach. But he had to try though; he wouldn't permit all this mess to happen again. Just wake up though, was a good enough improvement for the week.

"And they say I'm a creepy stalker..." the murmur was low like a meowing of a wounded cat, but on the dark room it was an great change, the room was silent and he couldn't want nothing else than to hear this special voice. He smiled heart-fully when on the absolute dark room two silver eyes shined. They were the only things he could see, but North dared not to turn on the lights.

"You're alive! Thanks the Moon, welcome from the land of the dead, _moy drug_!" North said cheerfully, Manny seemed to be fair with him. The eyes that stared at him tightened with that and coldly rolled. North suddenly wished he had goggles with night vision, for he couldn't see a hand in front of his eyes.

"Don't yell...where in the hell am I...?" Pitch asked, his voice was still a whisper but North could see the magic that the Nightmare's help did to him. He was conscient for pity's sake.

"North Pole. Do you mind if I light an candle?" The Russian asked and Pitch grunted something intelligible and those eyes disappeared. North simply shrugged and light up the candle, just to find out that the eyes had disappeared because the Boogeyman was under his covers, head, feet, everything.

"Come on, I didn't wait two weeks for you to wake up and hide from me." North said happily, and the Boogeyman simply sighed, the frame barely moving under the covers. Before he jumped of course. The Russian almost lost his sanity when the Nightmare King jumped to his feet, the hair a spiked mess, eyes wide in terror or something of the sort, for as long as he knew, the Nightmare King never truly had the fear on himself.

"Two weeks?!" He demanded, staring piercing and now golden eyes on his soul, frightening if not for the fact that there was fear on them. How could something already scared frighten someone else? The gift-bringer knew that no good could come from telling the truth or letting Pitch upset himself like that. Yet, hide the truth of him couldn't lead to anything good.

"Yes, you're here for two weeks now, though one Nightmare, the one who helped me to get to you, it is free somewhere. I'm pretty sure it drain dreams every hour and come here to help you as well. It has been of more help than I could be." North said, and like if it was possible, Pitch's eyes became even wider, the Guardian could smell the fear on him, worry waving in heavy, thick raging waves from the Nightmare King.

"The Nightmares! By this time they... they would..." Pitch yelled, and then the realization started to creep over his face. His eyes shined, and North's heart screamed, fearing what would come with that. Shaking hands moved to the Boogeyman's mouth, holding a scream of terror. "No... no... No! That can't be!"

That yell made the candle turn off, like an blow of the wind that acted on nothing else. North knew better than enter dark places with Pitch around without a source of light, so he fastly grabbed his flashlight and moved around, searching for any sign of the Boogeyman.

None was found, yet when he turned to face the red sheets of the bed the Boogeyman was, an enormous dark stain rested, a shadow that wasn't there before, and it simply disappeared, leaving the black sand behind. He had phased, entering the shadows and teleported.

"North?! What's happening here?! We heard Pitch screaming and came as fast as we could!" The door was roughly opened and revealed a worried Fairy Tooth and Sandy, both looking to the empty dark room and the gift-bringer, who looked around with the flashlight too.

"He woke up and when he heard that two weeks passed he went mad. He teleported away, but I have an idea of where he is going." North said, grabbing one snow globe and throwing at the wall. Sandy moved around, and signed _'Where? His Lair?_' just as worried as the Fairy.

"His Lair? Are you sure this is merely safe?" Tooth asked, Baby Tooth shivering and waving fists on the air, as if she somehow wanted her revenge again on the Nightmare King. North shook his head; it wasn't even safe in any sort of way. Yet, it was his charge; Bunnymund specially made sure of that, Pitch was his charge by the time he was around.

"Nyet, this may be dangerous, but I'm not sure he should be around on his own, he is a danger to himself, you saw it." He said, grabbing his swords and flashlight and entering the portal, with Tooth and Sandy just behind.

The travel was short and once again he faced the Dark King's Lair, a realm of shadows, depressing, but like its master it held its features of beauty and elegance. Made of ink on white paper, it was a piece of art to stare at, and at the same time, frightening, if one had too much brains for its own good, or lacked them in general.

It primarily inspired fear, and on the highest peak it too inspired fear. Like he wasn't on any of those, he wasn't the sea of wisdom neither the ignorance he easily could keep his fear of the place inside.

Tooth though was having problems. Her legs shake slightly on the wind and her hands rested on Sandy's shoulders, the golden silent Guardian though was prepared for anything, as the dream sand stood on his hands like some sort of cloud, and on the slightest shown of a threat, those would become deadly whips. North moved further, seeing he had teleported to the start of the place almost, and to reach the throne and center of the place, he would have to walk a bit.

He waved at his fellow Guardians, and they followed quietly behind. The way on the city was easy, if it was decently illuminated at least, it had straight lines and the turns were made with definition, meeting others and others like hair, but still they were squared, they had corners and one would only need to follow the path, evading walls and stones, climbing stairs and making turns in the complete darkness.

To one it could be maddening, it surely was deep inside the rocks, pillars and halls, but on the main hall it was quite understandable. It was a maze and a kingdom, a city and a cave. It was majestic.

Pitch was a mind to bow at, North always knew that, but seeing the details of his lair, he could only respect it even more. The Lair was perfect to a lithe tall man like him, it was perfect to hide himself and his Nightmares and Fearlings, in the case of an attack, they could simply step to one side and disappear, only getting out when they wanted.

Was, strategically, the most advantageous battle field he could ask, besides a completely dark room of course. It only wasn't for the fact that he had sometimes children on his cages. Probably.

His steps already soundless on the floor, became even more muffled, and North kneeled, his hand touching the floor and strangely not finding the stone floor, but sand instead. He got up, with a handful of black sand, and turned to the others Guardians. There was no need of words to explain, they knew what it meant, something wasn't right, the sand wasn't supposed to lay on the floor like that, like normal sand.

They walked with doubled speed, and when reaching the main district of the place, North halted, though his heart wanted to simply run straight ahead. Kneeled in front of his throne stood the Boogeyman, his back arched and besides his lowered head he couldn't tell more.

He was silent, like the tears of a stone, but his heart said that it was worse than crying itself, it was the usability to do so, the impotency, of even if he cried and melted on tears, nothing could go back. It was a black dagger through the Guardian of Wonder's heart.

"You can't remake them?" It was surprising who the first to speak was. Tooth asked, still close of Sandy, but her eyes held pure worry, like if Pitch was nothing less than a wounded child, a child that her motherly senses screamed to protect and heal with her own tears if it was the case.

"No... the- they starved... gone for three days already. There is nothing I can do." He said with the voice dry but still not weak, and too not ready to give up and show his real colors. The Nightmare stood on his side, it was there all the time long, but he didn't even saw it. The black horse moved it's nozzle to Pitch's face, and the Boogeyman simply sighed, turning to touch his forehead on the mare's nuzzle.

His eyes were close, or so it seemed, but they were not when he noticed a glow being returned by it. A glow? No, it was a magical spell that seemed to glow on them, enthralling, calling him to hoard and keep them to himself.

A little preciousness that could buy unending lands of both pure darkness or light. He noticed it was a tear when it ran down his cheek, and the Nightmare King turned his face, hiding it. The others probably hadn't seen it, giving for their angle, but he had, and he would never forget it.

_"Carissime... Ultimum relictis..."_ He whispered and the mare whimpered softly, lean, thin fingers touched the neck carefully, but the ghost of that tear was marked on my mind. How much he had taken before he finally snapped and built himself against them? North was humbled, never had faced such thing before, except... except on Jack. Such amount of hurt and loneliness in a single mess of a being. Jack was right, they were alike in more ways he had thought.

It was Latin, he was sure the Nightmare King had whispered wounded nothings to his Nightmare in Latin, the language was peculiar, he couldn't miss it. Maybe Pitch had some sort of affinity with the language? North himself had with Russian, why not? He just noticed he knew nothing about the past of the Dark King, was he from which age? When he became a spirit? Of shadows of course, but a spirit indeed?

"I'm sorry Pitch... I knew not that it would happen. Please forgive me." He spoke and expected everything, a scythes on the head, an angry look, raging words of rage and hatred... but none came. What came was far, far worse. It entered his chest like a martyr and destroyed every inch of him, tearing apart every part that existed inside his heart and mind.

"Why? It's not your fault; none could have predicted they would stay that faithful even on the end. Don't pity me." He said, and except for the last phrase, never stood poison on his voice, which was a different thing to hear him. Though, North could tell, he preferred the cocky, arrogant Pitch than the broken one, this one wasn't him.

"It's not pity, its compassion, losing what one care is never easy." He said, and he couldn't hold himself from moving closer, the Nightmare whinnied dangerously but the gift-bringer ignored it for now. He kneeled closer and rested his hand on the Boogeyman's shoulder. His heart could be heard for sure, but cared not.

"Come with us, with me, you can stay with me that I won't mind, in truth, I would like around. You shouldn't hang out alone, no one should. Now I see." North said, and under his hand he could see the man shaking, but a hand fastly cleaned any sign of tears on his face. So broken, a heart of gold, hidden under fiery undying embers of a rage that burned down forests.

"Me...? With you Guardians...?" He said, both surprised and mocking with that situation, and that brought a small smile on North's lips, he was being sarcastic, wasn't this a wonderful change? He was getting up, building again, even if against him, he was building again. He turned to face the Boogeyman, and then lowered a hand for him, his kindest smile glaring to confusion and loneliness.

"Da, why not? I dare someone to say something against, it will be my house, who I invite over is my business." The Guardian of Wonder said, gleeful like a proud father. He liked very much the idea, all he needed was Pitch to stop staring just once, stop seeing evil where there wasn't, and simply hold his hand as well. Golden eyes shined from down, and like a phoenix, he knew the strength he had to be born again, be it for good or bad. All he needed was believe.

"If invited to one's Lair... show respect as if it was yours..." The Boogeyman whispered as if it was some sort of old law and belief be so much followed in past times, and his mind seemed elsewhere by an second, and when it returned, it stared at the hand in front of him. There was doubt, hurt, exhaustion and pain on those eyes, but what was there and the gift bringer could clearly see was loneliness. That one made him raise a timid, shy hand and barely hold his own.

North could feel the bones and soft skin on that hand, a long thin hand that didn't filled his own like one of a man like himself would, but was one long enough for match his. It was strange, how a movie black and white would meet a colorful one. North's smile couldn't grow wider. The Boogeyman got up, like if his body weighted nothing at all, still he couldn't bring himself to stare at North.

"I LOVE WHEN THINGS GO RIGHT AT THE END!" Tooth's voice was heard in the whole dark Lair, as the woman simply tackled the Boogeyman and pressed him tightly against North, the Boogeyman was tall and almost at the height of the Russian, his head only stood at the height of the Russian's eyes, but with that Pitch's nose ended right on the Guardian's neck.

"I don't feel my legs..." Pitch exhaled, and North could feel that warm, dangerous breath entering his clothes. Pitch's skin was strangely warm, warm and soft, as did that breath that was supposed to be burning, but yet was warm and somehow soft on him. Not its usual, yet... lovely? Was that be word he found to describe Pitch Black? By the way his hair went slightly up, couldn't be anything else.

"Tooth, come on, you're going to scare him like that." He said with a wide grin, and looking down, there was a Boogeyman which eyes were wide, his arms frozen, pinned at his sides with the Fairy Tooth just hugging him as tight as she could.

He laughed slightly, it was only but amusing to see Pitch surprised as that, it make him more... beautiful, more human, reachable, while sometimes he was so different and odd he even wondered if he was an human before, or even an spirit now.

"I can't scare a bug and you know that! Hello Pitch, it will be so nice to have new people around." She said slightly and as North raised his eyes slightly, he could see but Sandy hugging her as well, and giving a thumb up in approval. Pitch still seemed perplex, though he hurriedly lowered his eyes.

It was not possible though, which ended with his nose further down and cheek against the gift bringer's chest, a moment that lasted only two seconds before Tooth jumped off and almost made the poor Boogeyman lose his balance.

"I... can't say that I will stay for too long, though." He said, and when the awkward moment was about to show up North warped an arm around the shoulder of the Boogeyman, making him jump slightly at the touch, uneasy and tense under his arm, but yet not meeting the Guardian's glance.

"I can't blame you, sometimes not even I have the head to stay there. But that only time will tell." North said, and the Boogeyman simply sighed, and the black sand answered, swirling and meeting the shadow of the Nightmare King. The clothes he used made impossible to tell the difference between it and his shadows, making the cloth a single mass from shoulders to feet, and the black sand entered in this shadows, being absorbed by it.

It was strange, but yet harmless. The Nightmare moved closer and touched its King, yearning for touch. It was too strange how it seemed to stare into North's mind, a poisonous look of rage, greed and dark needs. It wanted the Russian far, far away and on tiny pieces, bloody pieces of meat. And then, somehow, it didn't move an inch to attack him.

"Come on?" Tooth asked with kindness toward the portal, and the Russian simply nodded, and released the man from his grasp. He could see the wheels and cogs spilling on Pitch's mind, considering everything, and at the same time, if you stared at him, you could see that he simply didn't want to think on nothing.

Self-preservation though was something he had on his personality, and even when highly annoying, one could never bring himself to hate it. Only envy, such thing.

"Gehenna, together." He said, and the Nightmare happily obliged to hide on his shadow, disappearing when on it as did the black sand, like if Pitch's coat was itself a portal for dark beings. Maybe it was.

The Guardian of Wonder smiled, it was an agreement, could not look like it was, but it was. North simply walked to the portal, entering it, and already on the other side, he extended a hand back.

He couldn't hear anything on the other side, or see, so he just waited for the longest ten seconds of his life, his body on his workshop and his hand on the Boogeyman's Lair, until he felt the same thin hand of before, one he could not forget too soon. Thin, but delicate and elegant, like an arrow crafted to perfection on a branch of Ebony.

He smiled, as his hands simply held tighter Pitch's, and he pulled the Boogeyman to his home. He couldn't wait to have the Boogeyman around, and help him in all the ways he could. Maybe he could even have the chance of feeling the warm breath of the Nightmare King again. Not that he had enjoyed it though, and not that he simply craved for feeling it again.

**Hahahaha! I love drama, oh Gods! Follow and soon you will have more! Review and I will write faster! Now, who review on this chapter will win a bag of golden coins! Archangel out!**


	4. C4 - Conflict

**First of all I would like to thanks you dear –and frequent- reviewer, Takeno, for gracing me with his words of cheers and support. Then, thanks TheChronicLiar, for making me and Jeremy laugh like to retards on the local hospital's halls with her unending sense of humor. And answering the Guests! **

**PandaAttack2109: **I am so happy you like it! I once tried to write seriously, but I always let feelings go on with the words, making it sound quite poetic, yes. I am happy you notice it, and if you read this again, do review again! I would love to know if you're following this and I assure you, I will make the next chapters even more poetic.

**AkatsukiHeir: ** Hahahaha! Makes me reaaaly happy you like the plot. When I wrote the poor summary I just wanted people to come because of the pairing and stay because of the plot. I hope I am successful on that. As for the updates, its mostly one a week, on the Fridays because I know many of us fans work and study, so I post it so everyone can check it on the weekend. Keep reading on!

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**Disclaimer: I really hope the ownership to come by Sedex and with a red ribbon on it, but while I don't have it, it isn't mine. I only own the plot and the soul I put on it.**

**Chapter 4 – Conflict**

Feet and body seemed to not follow any pleas his mind screamed in that day, and not on the others even. How long since he had cried with real, wet tears? The last time it was still on the same day he had exiled himself under his own bed, and before that... he couldn't recall any. Oh, lies, there was a few, but sometimes it was of utter frustration and rage, though here, they were but a show of loneliness and sadness.

Weaknesses, he was but a weak whimpering mutt that finally, after having its loyalty rewarded with kicks on the stomach, decides to give up. Not entirely give up, for it knew not how to, but sitting away for a while, to think and rethink its own actions, searching where it made something wrong. He wasn't different it seemed, following his nature of fear he only got hurt, now he had stopped a bit. And this cease of the suffering though, came with a high price, and he regretted it so much.

Oh regret! He regretted everything! He could have fought more, he would make it up all again, fight until he laid dead, not mattering how much it hurt, if he simply knew... he had planned to simply exile himself a bit, if he couldn't fed his Nightmares was because he was at the brink of death, and it happened, the Nightmares and Fearlings would go wild, hunt and fed by themselves. But even MiM couldn't have predicted that North would come and take him from there.

There was no chance of it to happen, why would the mighty Guardian of Wonder lower himself to get him under his bed? He couldn't have predicted. Yet, all he wanted was hit the wall until he bleed, scream to all the winds and lands what an idiot he was, what a stupid, ignorant and selfish king he was! But he couldn't, there was still one for him to take care of, to make it all again. He had collected the black sand, he could do the Nightmares again if he had power, but he had none.

The Fearlings would reborn it the fear was planted again, he wasn't worried about them, but about the Nightmares though, they had died, there was nothing he could do. He felt so lame, far weaker than he had ever been, and the lights on the workshop of North made only his head ache. He wanted his dark, sweet darkness, and do something about his Nightmares, but he could do nothing.

_'Self-hatred lead to nowhere, magister. Keep strong, my King.'_ He could hear his Nightmare saying in his mind, and that only made him close his eyes, it was not like if he was the center of the attention, he could do that sort of thing. The back of his head rested on the big, comfy red chair they had offered him, he had refused though, but his weakness got the best of him

_'Maybe I'm just too tired of keeping strong.._.' He said to his Nightmare on his head, and on his shadows he could feel it moving, like if it had possessed his coat somehow, after all, it was hidden on the shadows of his coat, it would be ever like this and wouldn't change too soon.

The Nightmare was safe on the darkness, no dark or clean magic could bring her out unless she wanted, and while there, no harm could be dealt to her unless it was by starvation of fear, or it came from Pitch. And he wouldn't hurt his Nightmare by nothing of this world.

_'Then faulter and rest, I may keep strong for you then.'_ The Nightmare answered, its essence moving around his stomach like a snake more or less. A snake! Glowed the brilliant idea that for moments made him think about smiling. He wanted his Nightmare to be able to move around him, and a horse was just too big. But he knew of something that could serve just well.

_'Darkness praises your loyalty. Would you mind if I changed your form? A horse have no place inside a workshop as busy as that, and I feel like I won't be able to go out too early.'_ Pitch whispered mentally and if his Nightmare was a human, it would have laughed. A high pitched, evil sinister laughter, but laughter indeed. His hands moved to his coat, at the sides like if there was pockets there, and his fingers held some of the still alive black sand, his Nightmare's essence.

_'Neither should you leave. I dislike these Guardians deeply, but they would keep you healthy at least. My lord is proud, won't fall while they are close. About the change, you're the creator, I mind not.'_ She said and he simply smiled dangerously as the black snake came from the shadows and inside his coat to the outside, coming from his back and warping around his waist, he just noticed how big he had made it when it had nowhere to long anymore and its powerful body moved to his shoulders as well. Four meters with ease, though he didn't meant for it to be that large, he had to compensate for the fact that the horse was big as well.

_'You shouldn't carry weight, in this form I weigh almost as much as grown child.'_ She said in a sort of whisper, the absolute black scales were warm and somehow soft against his skin, pressure being added as she needed to hold on him. Warped on his waist and then over his shoulders she seemed to disappear, mixing with the clothes as some sort of natural cloak.

The body of the enormous serpent was thick on the middle, thicker than his thighs, a snake of pure muscle and strength, which in nature killed the victims by constricting them, consequently breaking their bones and emptying them of air. Usually slow, he knew that his Nightmare was far faster than any other normal creature, and magically lighter. Her whole body couldn't weigh more than a pillow, and as the weight was on his hips, he couldn't feel more than a heavier coat.

_'Forget it. Mind that I made modifications, the normal of this kind does not have poison, but you have more than a snake should, so mind it if you bite someone, its death sentence.'_ He whispered quietly, and her head came to rest on his bare collarbone, the warm scales and the inevitable proximity made he fell safer somehow, wanted. Less lonely, for its not like a horse can be that close. He should have done it before. The eyes glowed completely golden, just like when it was previously a Nightmare.

_'Lovely.' _She nodded. The fact of his creations being mares and not male horses was the pun of course, and the fun on it, a thing he thanked himself for doing, sometimes when he wanted to hear no one at all, their voices would be softer, calmer than any other in the world could be. He felt like a god, making such wonderful creatures. And also a monster, for letting his only companions die.

"Is that a snake?" The voice broke from no one specifically, but Pitch heard it, and opened his eyes. He could see the Guardians staring at him, and the enormous snake licked the side of his face, the forked tongue felt warm on his skin, and made the answer be answered before he even needed to say something_. 'I have a name, fools.'_ She hissed at his mind. His Nightmares were just as prideful as he.

"It's my Nightmare, but in another form. Say hi Gehenna." Pitch said, an internal pride for his creation. The anaconda move a bit forward and bite the air, the sound of her jaws shutting on the space, showing her lines of sharp teeth, was enough for a lot of people to step backward. The Nightmare returned to rest her head on the Boogeyman's collarbone, the magical black of the creature against the grey of his skin.

"See, it's exactly what I am tryin' to say. He isn't some furry stray kitten, but a treat that you're puttin' inside your house. Fainted is already hard to accept, imagine awake!" Bunnymund was the one to speak, and was when the Nightmare King noticed he lost a wide gap of the conversation, from St. Nicholas kicking doors open when arriving to the disagreement of the Easter Bunny. Stopping to think, it wasn't a gap that big.

"I'm going to tell you the same I told him. The workshop is mine, and having the 'bird of bad luck' will be good. Why you have to be so mean with everything new?" Nicholas said, it was impressive how he seemed to protect the Boogeyman's hide, maybe the man pitied him a lot and decided to don't let himself get with his conscience heavier. Maybe. Pitch hated pity, but he liked attention, so he couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Everything said for him to go away, yet something he knew not made him stay.

"Frostbite?" Bunnymund asked and Pitch's eyes moved to Jack instantly, how he dared speaking of Jack like that? He, not the stupid, arrogant Guardians, _he_ knew the extension of Jack's power, he had felt it on his own powers, when the winter spirit had frozen his Nightmares, he felt it.

He was strong as himself, while Pitch had experience and vastness, Jack was charged with passion and natural talent. The boy was like a mini, reversal himself, different, but the same still.

"I like the idea of Pitch around, it's like they say, '_you can't see better on the dark if you don't stare at it enough'_." Jack said like if the boy heard it more than once, and from elders as well, a child that mimicked everything their parents said. Pitch grabbed from thin air and black sand a goblet and it magically was filled with wine, one of the things he loved the most on life.

"Wise words, Frost." The Boogeyman said, raising the goblet in his name. Jack smiled mischievously at that, and without his desire Pitch could feel his own lips curling on a smile.

The boy would be lovely to be around, his opposite twin of ages younger could learn much from him, and the Nightmare King from the boy. The boy amused him deeply without a reason, made him move closer, somehow.

_'If he does something bad, it would be better if he did it under our noses.'_ Sanderson signed, but in Pitch's mind he could hear him clear as the day. Both Kings of Sand, masters in twisting minds, why wouldn't it be possible? He could read him like if it was one of his Nightmares, yet his thoughts couldn't run inside the golden's mind and he couldn't understand them. Pitch could only understand what was supposed to be, it seemed.

"True. It's decided then? Good. Pitch say 'ah' for me please." He heard and almost making the goblet of wine fall for his hand Toothiana was over him, her hands pushed his mouth open as she studied his teeth, she was there before he could even react, he wasn't waiting for it, maybe no one was.

"Sweet dentists what is going on in here?! Your teeth are black! But isn't cavities it seems... oh, they are like that forever? I guess they are, so let's just assume they are black naturally. Hey, are you a guy or a shark? They are sharper than scissors." She rambled and rambled, and he could feel her poking his teeth.

The yell came after, and he definitely smiled to that. His teeth were indeed sharp, not only the canines, but all of them, even the incisors and molars. The best of all was that she had cut herself on them, he didn't even had to bite her.

Jack's laughter simply filled the room. "Pitch did you just bite her?" The winter spirit asked, and the darker simply shook his head, closing his mouth and savoring the metallic blood, just to make it fade with wine.

"He didn't, they are just sharper than I thought." She said with a small smile, and he could feel the Nightmare tightening around his body, almost to the point of leaving purple bruises, she disliked sharing, it he already knew, but surprised him vastly that she was that possessive. He just felt tired from nowhere, exhausted of simply being awake.

"Call down Tooth, I am sure he will let you have a good look in another time, but for now, let's slow down." North was the one to interrupt, and Pitch simply could feel his eyes closing a bit more, the man simply glowed somehow, the red of his coat made him wonder how he was on the light and not under his bed.

Gehenna hissed in the air, sinking her eyes on North as she constricted him almost painfully, licking the borders of acceptable jealousy and harm. Pitch rolled his eyes to the Nightmare, who sighed in his head and return to pose on his collarbone, showing anyone the rights only she had.

Looking at North made Pitch feel tired, if there was one who was good at destroying his plans was North, always easy and soft, but rough like a polar bear. He hated the Guardians, but North wore the crown of hate.

Pitch liked Frost, tolerated Tooth, hated Bunnymund and Sanderson, but to North... it was supposed to be undying flaming hatred, yet he couldn't bring himself to even stare at the man. Why, he couldn't guess, but one thing he knew, the hate somehow was gone, and he wasn't even thankful for being taken from under his bed.

"'Kay, returnin' to the focus, I don't agree, but you know better, mate." The Pooka said, and that made North's smile go even more wide. Sanderson gave thumbs up, and looking to Tooth's and Jack's smile there was no need to question what they thought of it. Pitch simply rolled his eyes, but he knew better than say something when not asked, and simply drank of his wine quietly, the Nightmare's eyes deadly on the Guardians like if she waited for them to attack.

"Thank you Bunny, I'm sure that with Pitch around we will solve that issue soon." North said and Pitch almost chocked on his wine, which he had to sit straighter to swallow it properly. All eyes seemed on him with that feat, and he dried his throat, uneasy.

"Which issue?" He asked, his senses all alert, for if he had something, was a curiosity to know things he knew not, and a nose big enough for him to put on what didn't even concerned him, his enemies' s weaknesses being one of those things. Thanks to that, he was able to take down Sanderson when he fought the Guardians.

"You don't know?" Jack said, blue eyes shimmering like a whole galaxy and he noticed it was far worse than he had even expected it to be. He suddenly wanted to know what it was, needed to know. The dark spirit simply shook his head.

"Since our... fight, fear seemed to have disappeared. First in an acceptable way, but then it became wicked. Children and adults became fearless. I supposed you had something to do with it, that's why I came to your lair in the first place, and found you there." North said and Pitch put his mind to work, pointing things like if they were ingredients on a soup. North hadn't said he had found him under his bed, and for the way he spoke, the man hide it from the others. A good thing, he would hate if the stupid hare annoyed him with it.

His lips became thin, apprehension. His Nightmare had said it, it was already one year and half from his defeat, under his bed, he couldn't tell the time, it felt like an eternity, and a single moment. He simply couldn't tell the time when he was awake, and while he slept there was nothing to count. The Nightmare moved, waiting him to conclude his thoughts.

"All Fearlings and Nightmares were with me, so clearly they couldn't fill the world with fear. It wasn't supposed to happen something of the sort though..." he was going to complete with the fact that he was supposed to fade before it became at this level, but decided against it. If the Guardians hadn't taken him from his lair, he would have faded and the Fearlings and Nightmares would be free, would went rogue and for them on. If they hadn't made a single thing, their problem would be solved. Not that they needed to know that though.

"But you're here now, you can't do something?" Bunnymund asked, and Pitch stared into the Pooka's soul, he hated him clearly, but he would hate to see children being harmed by the lack of fear. Pitch knew the importance of his job, fear somehow, in its dark way, protected people from harm, he just wished he hadn't to be the failure's personification to frighten people and do his dark deeds, which varied to many things.

"I could have simply released the Fearlings and Nightmares back to the world, if there wasn't the fact they are all dead." He spoke, and the dark silence filled the place, Pitch could almost hear the scythe cutting the hope in strips, his deadly, dark shadowy scythe cutting it like if it was butter. Oh how he liked it, but yet, he wanted and could change it. Outside there was a white canvas waiting for him to fill with his dark ink.

"There is no way Nightmares and Fearlings can be made again?" Jack asked and the snake moved, its powerful muscles, sending shivers on his spine as it came to follow his arm and rest its head on it. It was strange, she stood proudly on him like if he was her prize, territorial, all the dark beasts had the tendency to be so, but she was going over what was common.

"Nightmares I made from Sanderson's dream sand or when someone is already with fear on the heart, Fearlings though are a personal touch, they aren't made, they come to existence with a scary happening or simply instincts, or others Fearlings scaring a human, which will make consequently a Fearling to its own. Fearlings are almost personal, they live on the heart and will always live, the thing shall be trigger them again." Pitch explained, and that seemed to put some hope on the hearts of those stupid Guardians.

"Well, how in the moon are we supposed to trigger the Fearlings?" Jack asked, floating and holding his staff over his shoulders. Pitch sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, was he really going to help? He couldn't fade anymore and leave the world without Fearlings and Nightmares, that was sure, so he couldn't do anything besides help. Help by making what he did best. He should have made it before.

"Bringing fear to the heart of children, of men and women, and as there is no one to do that, the chore lies on the Guardian's lap." Pitch said calmly, but inside his mind he was laughing loudly, bending over his stomach on laughter, the pain possessing him cold with such display of humor. The Guardians couldn't scare a single bird out of a post. Right now though, he wanted the Moon to bleed crimson red blood for putting him in this situation, and yet, he should thank it.

"I am not frightenin' innocent children on their sleep. It's good that we've ya 'round then, and bein' good enough to do black magic an' stuff. You should be in your way then, children's lives are in danger." The Pooka said, and his lips were curled on a black smile, he made him so angry, and anger always worked differently on him, so did fear. The Nightmare tightened and Pitch could not even feel it with the burning rage hidden inside but visible on his eyes.

The room seemed darker and he could see the panic and worry flowing from Sanderson, and some anger from Nicholas as well. It felt like an earthquake, and he held the need of blowing out like an explosive.

It was impressive how life seemed easier when he was angered, it was clear and his vision darkened, the opposite what it did when he entered dark places, a beast seemed to take over inside him, was it he? Was it fear? He couldn't tell. But he held himself, and after two seconds of grinning like a cannibal on a surgery he returned to more contained state. 

"You speak the truth, I can't simply let those children get hurt, can I? It would be awful if any of them got involved in a car accident in this instant... I can almost _feel_ it, a girl on the street, her mother isn't looking, and she can see a coin...? Yes, a golden shiny coin on the street! Of course her mother won't miss her for some seconds and even if there are many cars around, after that red one there isn't any other..."

"Where?! Tell me you bastard!" Bunnymund yelled, the distance between them disappeared, and the Pooka had his hands on his coat, lifting him from the chair, and Pitch's smirk was almost cutting to became wider.

He became without frontiers when he was angered, and different from other people, when angry he didn't became brainless, he became a monster, but a smart one that can't contain this anger, but won't do foolishness, he knew better. He laughed, half lidding his eyes, drinking on the anger of the Guardian of Hope.

"I can hear... it goes down my spine in a more than pleasurable way... a car braking and a woman screaming on despair." He whispered, and the Guardian shivered, and Pitch simply waited for the punch that didn't come. He opened his eyes to see Sanderson holding the Pooka with his sand, and Nicholas standing on the distance between them. The Guardian of Hope trembled almost as much as Pitch a minute ago.

"You monster! You're a beast Pitch! North should have left you to die!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, and that was like a song. It was true, Nicholas should really have left him. But he hadn't and here he wouldn't endure any arrogance or ignorance without a powerful backfire.

He released the goblet and it disappeared on black sand, the Nightmare on Pitch's body was constricting him enough to leave bruises, and he only needed one word and it would swallow the Pooka by whole.

"Shhh... I want to hear her screams." The Boogeyman answered, the smirk being wide and deep. The Guardian of Hope tried to get him, but from his fellow's grasp he couldn't flee. Better than any of that, was that Bunnymund had started, not him, and he would regret that on the next day. Toothiana's hands were on her mouth, and Jack simply stared wide eyes, not sure if he would hit Pitch himself or hold Bunnymund as well.

"I'll kill ya! I swear! For anything that is sacred in this world you assassin!" The Guardian's scream filled his ears and he sighed, his smile simply couldn't fade. The Nightmare hissed, her mouth still open and showing the fangs to the Easter Bunny. He could feel the shadows on his feet, he could go away, but not yet. He wasn't done.

"Assassin. What a wonderful title. Now, if you excuse me, there is a flesh body for me to check, a child's blood is a useful ingredient to dark magic. So does flesh. And both taste wonderful on my mouth." He said, and their eyes went wide with such thing, cannibalism, he wasn't proud, but sometimes torture wasn't enough, and he needed more from his victims, he yearned for more... and hadn't happened twice.

He stepped into the shadows and disappeared on them, but he could still hear Bunnymund screaming, yelling, kicking. A Guardian's fear was always a good way to fed, and he certainly was stronger than lately.

When he opened his eyes, he also summoned sunglasses, and putting them on so he could shield his eyes and go out of the shadows of a darker alley. The scream was still happening, and some more started to follow. The car finally stopped, and a man when out of it, looking intrigued. The mother ran toward the body of the child and the man simply scratched his head.

Pitch leaned closer to a public phone and searched on his unnoticeable pockets for a coin, and finally finding it, he put it on the phone, with the whisper of a spell for his voice to be heard. He had evaded people on his way, and now looking over his shoulder, he could see more people getting around, but no one calling the emergency. He could do this, it could save this child's life, he knew not if it still lived, he had to try.

"Hello, what's your emergency?" The phone said on his ear and the Boogeyman moved his head around, until he found the sign he so needed.

"A small girl was ran over by a car, I'm on the twelve avenue with fifteen south, close of the beach. Her state is of danger, I must state." He said, as calm as he could be, and the Nightmare around himself moved its head back to stare back, seeing people moving round but none doing nothing, besides the mother that screamed.

"Are you sir related to the accident? A familiar maybe that could grant more information?" The woman on the other side of the line said, the voice robotic on the other side. With a twist of a wrist there was black sand on the area of the accident, and people started to freak out in fear. Within that fear, he could feel the one of the girl, and consequently know who she was.

"No, I was just passing nearby. Her name is Kate Collins, three years old, blood type AB positive. Have allergies to peanuts and bees, hate loud sounds, closed rooms and needles. Her favorite color is bright pink." He spoke in a memorized tune and looked over his shoulder to see the event going on behind him.

"The ambulance is on the way. That information is from a parent?" She asked and Pitch leaned on the public phone, using it to shield himself from the sun.

"Is from her mother. I must go now." He said, and without hearing anything else, he placed the phone on the hang and walked out, making sure of evading people and using his magic on them, trigging the fear as if it was a natural gift, and it was, it really was.

More than once Pitch found himself comparing his being, which he concluded that couldn't be human anymore to a Fearling. He wasn't sure what he was before becoming a spirit, he probably was a human, but in the last century, when he planned his attack with the Nightmares, he started to doubt it. His powers seemed to be of a Fearling indeed, only wider and more powerful, but in the essence they both came from the same pool of energy, fear and darkness.

Some of the things that a human spirit couldn't take was body destruction, when this one's body is fatally wounded or deprived of any sort of food, water or oxigen, spirits would die. He instead unwillingly hibernate, like an organism frozen in liquid nitrogen and simply waited, his body fading as he only lived on a unconscious ethereal form.

Very much like a Fearling. Fearlings had the ability of changing their forms, snakes, bats, monsters that scared children on their sleep, so it could suit it better.

Pitch had felt it before, in a moment of anger that he could become stronger, better if he simply left his anger and need take over, but he wouldn't. If he lost control he certainly would lose what made him different from regular Fearlings. His control. Fearlings were like beasts that, sometimes, when calm, they could think rationally. Pitch though, was able to do so even in rage, if he let it go, it think for him, he wouldn't be King anymore but one of the many instead.

It brought the worst from him, his lower moments were when under this rage and nature's influence, cannibalism, torture and bloodlust was always under it. He became then thrilled under the sight of a corpse, in disgust, want, and fear of himself, the torture for him was almost as easy as sexual pleasure, and bloodlust he overcame more easily, changing the whole thing of painting the hell off with blood to a more healthy love for wine.

He was a monster such his Fearlings, probably the worst of them for being more powerful, yet he worked his body and mind to keep it under control. It was on him, was a part of him, as much as his loneliness, sadness, or simply arrogant attitude.

It was him, so if it was a monster inside him, he was a monster then, not a part of him like if he was sick or had influence of another being. He was a monster, yet a proud one that fought to keep as human as he could.

He moved around the streets, the sunlight of a southern city of United States, he knew it was on the coast but wasn't Florida or Miami neither, so he couldn't tell by sure where he was. He knew it was around noon and the sunlight was killing him, but this amount of fear was keeping him from swooning in exhaustion and tiredness, a thing that the time at noon did to him, as it did to all the Fearlings. Another evidence, it seemed.

Aster Bunnymund wanted him to be useful and go spread his powers, make his feast start and go without ends. He knew Sanderson wouldn't absorb his Fearlings and Nightmares, he had a green card for his mischief for the time being. He smiled widely, like a cannibal on the entrails of a huge man, yes, he should have done it previously on his life, he was free of Guardians on his back to do any dark deed he needed to do.

Redemption? Not sure, but lots of fun to a fallen enemy, definitely.

**Lalalala its over! Have a dark chapter, have conflict, have drama, have blood and have a bit of wickedness in the end! That's me, writing! Thanks to all the people said on the start and you fellow reader that make the Story Stats so addicting to check on!**

**REVIEW AND LEAVE IDEAS! I WILL GIVE YOU A GHOST IF YOU DO SO!**


	5. C5 - Correction

**Where's my barrow, here is Archangel of Dragons. I'm dying today, but wouldn't leave you guys without a chapter, I'm not that selfish. I love to write listening to songs, mostly rock, metal, Celtic or any other. I may put their names and singers here, so you all may understand what I'm talking about. This chapter though, there is nothing of that.**

**Chapter for today: Less feelings and more plot! Let's explore the idea I have from Pitch last chapter, of him being not exactly human. If you missed that, read it again. ;) It may look OCC, but mind that everything I do is to fit later on the bigger frame. If you don't understand something, just hold it that I may explain chapters after.**

**Guest: **Hue! I love to hear compliments! Thank you so much, and here, have your chapter! I hope I can picture Pitch well, he is kind of hard to write, because I want angst, and he isn't the guy exactly made for that. I hope I won't fail you too much!

**Thanks to my regular reviewers, my dear Takeno and Chronic Liar, two wonderful creatures. And Jeremy, who hide stuff from me. I won't ever forgive him for that.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it yet. Maybe until next week I will have it.**

**Chapter 5 - Correction**

He had made it. He was torn down, exhausted, his powers couldn't make him stay on his feet much longer, but he had made it. Strategically running around the world, he placed Nightmares and triggered Fearlings out, and after that they would do its magic like an infection over the world. But now, he wished he had slowed down a bit, it had ended with him.

_'The Guardians should crawl on your feet after what you've done for them._' His Nightmare always cheerful said in a hiss and he couldn't help but nod softly and lower his head.

His Nightmare moved to a sharp run to a softer scroll over the night sky, the beautiful night glowing with the Moon and the lights of the cities under them. He liked the darkness completely dark, but something about those colorful lights on the sanctified realm of darkness made him like it.

"They should, but they won't. The maximum I can win is a twisted smile from one or another of them." He said, he wanted to be rewarded, to have a party in his congratulation, mugs raised on the air in his name, but he wouldn't gain any of that. He didn't want to be pitied, but he didn't want to be hated any further, and when he did something merely good, he just expected to be rewarded. Just a bit.

But reality was a bitch and he wouldn't receive such thing, he was hated, and what he had done was probably nothing less than his obligations since he was the one to start it, even if unconsciously.

He could almost hear Bunnymund speaking it to him, his eyes full of that nasty arrogance. Somehow, he felt even more tired by thinking on that, maybe he shouldn't even have helped it in the first place, and now he thought about returning to that? Madness.

_'Don't think about it my King, they are not worthy of your consummation.'_ His Nightmare whined and he simply sighed, trying to don't think on it, but failing miserably, he had thought that he could have won some company, even if they hated him and it was only for a short period of time, but company indeed.

He simply hated being alone, and thinking he would break out of that routine was just too foolish. He even hadn't time to teach Frost one trick or another in clear magic so he could make his powers work more softly and gain more control.

"I'm lonely, I don't care if it's unworthy. I just don't want to return to the loneliness again." Pitch muttered, and he wished he was angry at something, anything. It was better than this depression and lack of sleep.

His senses were numb, yet his powers were not, and he could sense all the fears under him, all the minds working under him, filling the floor with even more lights. It wasn't overwhelming though, it was a small glow that made the scene even more beautiful.

_'And they dare say you are a monster. I can find more humanity on you than in many others.'_ She said and he simply knew it wasn't true, she could only sense and see the superficial part of his mind, not the deepness on it, and it made things different.

Looking closer, he was but a wolf wearing the wool of a lamb. He simply sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the fresh air up the clouds, enjoying for the moment nothing more than simply being alive, he could be chained down like the monster he was on any minute.

He flew over this city, he cared not where he was, Dubai probably, looking at the buildings, when he felt a fear he knew well, being said on his mind with an equally familiar voice. He knew very well who this was, and what it took to beak this one down, this fear's reasons were quite unpaired on the world. He didn't need to say and Gehenna already slowed down, following the scent naturally, as does every time to Fearlings and Nightmares.

The red coat itself was a reference point. He could almost hear the dialog on his mind, one asking how to get to the main street and another answering simply: Go straight ahead, after the second sign, turn left, and when you find a large red coat, turn right on the highway. This red coat was trademarked, copyrighted and everything else that one needed to do to don't ever see another like this again, if not with Nicholas himself.

The Nightmare was close enough to breathe on the Guardian's neck, as North did check something in some sort of travel diary. Pitch smirked mischievously as he soundlessly jumped out of the Nightmare, the creature disappearing on his shadows as he moved closer of the Guardian of Wonder.

If Pitch had a secret ability that no one seemed to consider was move around and do things without being noticed, his sneaking skills made him some sort of fantastic thief that never stole. He should try burglary one day.

Leaning closer he could almost feel the softness of that coat on his nose, it smelt like vodka, snow and sweet things, like a warm cookie and milk, a great meal on Christmas Eve and presents on the following morning.

A family he never met, on a house that could be both a playground and a stronghold, the joining of both safety as a unknown land to discover. The stubborn magic on the air, that one could see and touch, like fog on a cold day. Was like that how Christmas felt?

"Is that the smell of Christmas?" He wondered, and surprised himself to notice he had spoken it out loud. When North turned in pure reflex, he had to rely on his flexibility to evade being hit accidentally by the Russian. Pitch couldn't lie and hide that he was amused though, how could someone smell of so many things at the same time and also don't make them mix and become an unknown thing?

Nicholas' eyes were on him, and even with the light but tired mod of the Nightmare King, he couldn't bring himself to stare at the Guardian's eyes and moved to his chin instead, it was better than his eyes anyway.

"Sorry for that, I meant no harm." He said quite politely, and waving a small smile. Not poisonous, but not completely soft though, it held some sort of mischief on it.

"Nyet, it isn't a problem. Can you believe I just found who I was searching?" He told, smiling widely in his strong, red and golden way, and Pitch couldn't stand it without turning his face to the side.

It wasn't uncomfortable, it wasn't bad neither good. It just did things to him, and he couldn't tell if it was a good thing or bad too. He slipped his hands inside the unseen pockets and shrugged, a sharp smile on his lips.

"Really? That's really interesting." He said, not sure how to answer that almost sure it was the intention of the toy maker to do so. From all the Guardians, the only one he had not made a defined opinion of was him. He didn't liked him, yet he couldn't bring himself to dislike him. Neutral maybe? No, he had done just too much to be simply neutral.

"I guess. I saw what you have done, well done! I must thank you for that, I couldn't stand losing more children like that." Nicholas said, proudly and cheerful in a way that made Pitch feel small in front of him, a way he never felt in front of North before, not when they fought, and not even when he was defeated.

But proudly he stood, not willing to give away in any feeling, a thing that fighting his own showed him.

"Thanks me for frightening children? I assume you're out of yourself, Guardian." He said, and it wasn't as cold as he wanted it to be. He sounded almost normal. Was it a good thing? Sound casual in the Guardian's ears? He had seen him in his worst so all formalities had no point now. North simply chuckled and sat down on the roof of the building he was on.

"Yes, I don't like frightening children, but I saw how it was without fear. After all, they need fear, we need fear." He said and that made Pitch sit down at his side, crossing his legs and studying the man, if he was lying, Pitch could certainly tell, but there was no lie there. He simply spoke what he thought. "After all, that's what's fear, isn't it? Safety?"

Pitch seemed at a loss of words for that. So he wasn't the only one on the world to think in this way? The Guardian really could actually see that fear itself was useful and necessary, not simply a dark evilness? "I suppose so." Was all he was able to bring himself to say, the anger and arrogance seemed to lose its fuel with that.

"It's true then. It took me a while to realize, but I think I finally did, and I can say that one day the others may realize it too. I should apologize then, for my meaner, I believe more than once I was meaner than it should be considered acceptable." North said and Pitch swallowed those words like if they were raw onion on his throat, his gaze on the floor and eyes shutting. If it was a dream, he wasn't returning to life anymore.

"They may, but that doesn't make their fear reasonless. There is a reason why I stand alone in the shadows Nicholas, their fear will give them distance and safety. Better than meeting my anger when close." Pitch knew not why he spoke of it, but he couldn't bring himself to lie when the man was being sincere, wanting nothing from it. He simply closed his eyes, pain for opening his mouth in the start seemed to crunch his heart out. He was just too weak.

"Why?" He asked, without complimenting it with anything else. Pitch opened his mouth to say it, maybe smith a lie, maybe say the truth, he would just start it, and the air simply got out of his lungs, emptying him by complete, but not a single mutter was said. His lids fluttered close, and he just noticed he couldn't say anything that ran on his mind or heart.

His heart felt like dying, slowly, painfully, and he could feel it beating. Raising his hand, he brought it to his chest, feeling it going wild against his chest. Why couldn't he talk about it? He had never even thought of speaking it to someone, so hadn't realized how it truly was heavy in his mind and heart. Inside his mind, the world seemed a lot easier, logical and simple. Down from his clouds though, there was no easy on him.

"The night is beautiful today, isn't it?" Nicholas said, and simply warped a arm around his shoulders, pulling him to rest his head on his own chest, Pitch's nose on the height of his chin. The Russian seemed joyful, but nothing less than peaceful, his arm around his shoulders and then on his own chest, since he had pulled him close enough to bow his elbow and hold on his own collarbone as well.

Pitch raised his eyes a bit, before closing them and inhaling the scent he could only describe as Christmas, even without ever having one. He had been around the world for a week now nonstop, he simply wanted to breathe and allow himself to ignore everything else on the world. It was strange, but he couldn't think on a better place to do it than under Nicholas' care. He wouldn't harm him, and had proved he would keep him from any.

He simply closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his head fall a bit to the side, his forehead under the Guardian's chin. The scent seemed to call him to their magic realm, and lately, he was but the image of control and the lack of it.

The moment though, called for indulgence, and he couldn't help it, but to indeed indulge on the indulgence. "Yeah, it is wonderful." 

Was what he spoke, before a arm held him closed and his senses seemed to have taken everything from him, as he fell into a peaceful sleep, one he needed, and seemed to be the best he would take for a while. Warmth was everything he needed to fed him, and he simply noticed how what Nicholas had said was true. Fear was Safety. And he needed them both.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Morning came like a deadline to a lazy writer of a weekly magazine, or so his brain told him. He woke up and cracked many of his bones, stretching them and feeling the pleasure from it. His lids were the first to move, and they some when had to do anyway.

Darkness meet them and he was thankful for that. In complete darkness he could see just perfectly everything, far better than in any other place. He was on the room Nicholas had borrowed him, the one he slept for something like two weeks, and was when he noticed how he needed a bath. He scanned the room, and he could see the door that probably lead to a bathroom. He didn't want to take a bath here though.

Would the mighty Santa Claus think he was gone if he disappeared into his lair, searching for his own bathroom to take his bath? Not if he went off and returned quickly. It seemed true, he felt filthy, and he was a fine dark creature, a lover of wise discussions, refined food and comforts of an indeed King.

He could certainly go and return before North even knew he was out. With that the Boogeyman slipped inside shadows, himself being the same thing as them and going to his Lair.

When he returned though the world seemed far sweeter than when he went. What a good bath didn't? His feet meet the floor of his borrowed room, and like a shadow on the walls, he moved across to the corridor. Like if he only was partially on this world he walked to the corridor, the place seemed eternally on Christmas Eve, colorful lights filled the places and he could only guess he was on the residential part of the hideout.

It lead to some sort of living room, on the middle of it a fireplace, and many couches and pillows on the floor around it. The place seemed shiny, but the fact that the main light was of the fireplace made him soften a bit.

The fire too was the sort of light on his Dark Ages, so easy to be turned down, and the fire spirits had an agreeable relation with him. They both scared humans largely, the dark and the fire, but one had light and the other not.

On the Dark Ages they agreed that when one was frightening humans, the other would search for other victims. So darkness wouldn't have to deal with such source of light such as fire, and fire wouldn't have to deal with Fearlings or Pitch himself turning the fire out with magic.

They even had team hunts, when not in a single place they would be safe, poor humans. The memories of those great ages made him relax.

He could close his eyes and see himself again in those ages, it was foolish remember though, his attack had time to happen, and it failed. He had no right of trying again, it was useless. But he wanted it, an unlimited power and hunger, able to walk free not minding the hour or the censure of Guardians. He wanted to be free and the King he was nobly named after.

"You appeared. I thought you had vanished for good." Pitch heard and he couldn't tell he was surprised. He heard the man arriving and felt him on the shadows as well, he simply didn't spoke before because he wasn't really paying attention on this realm of being but instead on his long-gone Kingdom.

"Not yet, though some of you would love me to simply vanish, wouldn't they? Or shouldn't I say you?" Pitch asked, not poisonous, not yet, but for something that was shining on his mind. "I still didn't got your reasons behind your kindness for with me."

He thought the Russian would get angered or even slightly offended, but he simply laughed. Laughter, Pitch doubted he knew how to do it without being sarcastic or evil. "Do I need a reason for helping someone who would die without such thing?"

It got on Pitch like a bullet on the head. Free given kindness? It was supposed to be only a fairy tale. "I am getting the result for everything I have done, don't you think like that?"

"Of course not, you had reason for doing that, its justified. I think you had enough, and I fight for the things I judge right." He said kindly, and he moved to see around the main room. "Besides, the place is huge, I would like to have you around. Since we meet I feel like you must have a lot of reasons to do what you have done in those late years."

Did he thought such thing when they first meet? Pitch felt something biting his insides, for he couldn't say the same. He had thought of a maybe fair opponent, for in those times he was young and strong, master swordsman, fast to a human and intelligent inside and outside the combat.

Pitch was professional on his charge of main antagonist and was proud of that on those years. Now though, he wondered if he wasn't like that, his fate could have changed. Maybe, but he definitely then wouldn't be human but a machine of submissive obedience.

"... Thank you I guess." Pitch muttered and North simply nodded, a bright smile that was both shiny as strong, light normally wounded the Nightmare King, but the strength on that grin was one to bow at, a grin that in any other could be frightening, except for its pure kindness and joy. There was nothing to fear there.

"You're welcome. Hey allow me to show you my worksh-"

"PITCH!" It was everything he said before the Nightmare King's name was yelled on the start of the room. There was no time to react as all Pitch did was froze when blue sleeved arms came around his waist and he could definitely feel a cold breath on his back, as he could feel the thin body pressed against his back.

"Hello Jack! What you're doing here?" Nicholas said casually while Pitch was still on the middle of his shock and simply turned to see what exactly got him. A white haired head was there on his back, and when it was raised to stare at him back, piercing icy blue eyes stared at him, together with a wide smile. Cold, yet his insides were warmer than Pitch's.

"I heard that Pitch returned and I was simply feeling too bad for what Bunny spoke, so I simply thought, what about a apologizing hug? I mean, Pitch is all grumpy and things, but he simply seemed so sad when you guys returned with him from his lair so I thought he wouldn't mind." The boy would talk without brakes if he left him, Pitch mused. He simply sighed and weighted his options.

"Jack where are-PITCH YOU'RE BACK!" He heard and he only had time to close his eyes before Fairy Tooth hugged him as well, her forehead right under his chin and that made him wonder who else was to come. Not Sanderson please, their sands could make physical contact harmful and even painful.

"Come on Tooth, I got him first!" Jack complained and the Fairy simply placed her chin on his shoulder to show the winter spirit her tongue. Pitch would have slammed his face on his hand, if his hands we're glued on the sides of his chest.

"Technically I was the one who had him first. I still have to show him around, if not he may get lost." Nicholas said, but Pitch was ninety nine per cent sure that his words fell on deaf ears, as Jack and Tooth fought with ugly faces over him.

"Hey North, why you isn't feeding him right now? I can feel his bones." Toothiana said with worry of a mother, and North simply placed his arms on his waist and stared. Pitch wanted to roar and kick everyone far, but this shown of affection was so wicked to him, he didn't had the strength to do so.

"I can't see any bones, and I blame the coat. Drag him to the kitchen, I'm sure Leila will panic when she looks at him." North said merrily, and Pitch had to walk with a winter spirit warped behind him and a flying Fairy Tooth in front of him.

Pitch simply sighed, as Jack had a better idea and climbed on his back, legs and arms warped around him and Tooth was satisfied on simply dragging him by the arms, and warping his arm on hers.

Pitch simply groaned, letting his unpleasantness clear, and Jack simply chuckled, and the others ignored. He thought things would be better once he had failed, he was on the mud, it couldn't get worse.

Oh, how wrong he was! Everyone besides Bunnymund seemed to have adopted him as one of the family and he sure as hell didn't wanted to be turned in some sort of good newly reformed Boogeyman. He was the mess he currently was, and he wouldn't change from this. In home he was with the Nightmares and Fearlings, for they praised him for what he was.

His line of thinking though was interrupted by a yeti who pointed at him and fainted. He would get slightly worried if it wasn't for the fact that seconds later the yeti opened the eyes and stared at him, pointing and waving, not saying nothing about the yells of course.  
"This is Leila and congratulation Pitch, you scared the soul out of her. Leila, he wasn't chained down on a desert." North said and the yeti seemed to complain, and pointing at Pitch like if his simply existence was an argument of strength to bow at.

Jack chuckled a bit more on his back and Toothiana released his arm at once, giving the winter spirit the victory, and he indeed cheered over it. The Boogeyman simply tried to not think on the world going mad around him, for if he did, he certainly would get mad as they.

"Frightening people is his job remember?" Jack said and Nicholas simply nodded to that. Tooth moved around and called them over, while North was still trying to bring the female yeti, Pitch himself couldn't tell the difference of a male, and followed the Fairy, as she lead them to a table close to the kitchen. Was a small table but big enough for all the Guardians eat breakfast, but wasn't the main one, Pitch mused. Certainly not, Christmas called for a great table on the main dining room, this one was more for fast and stolen breakfasts.

"Jack, let him eat will you? You can't annoy him if he starves and die." Toothiana said it kind like the spring wind and making all the serious and sincere worry on her voice seems nothing but a joke.

Pitch allowed himself to sit, ever so silent. He knew better than talking when not asked and principally with people that shouldn't be harmed for his own well-being, people that he too was completely uneasy with. Medieval basic rules of behavior always came in hand in those times, and while everyone forgot about them, he still followed them.

"Sorry Pitch." Jack apologized a bit before simply sitting at his side and displaying a bright smile that, somehow magically didn't wounded his retinas like every source of light did. "Sooo, I hope you still isn't mad for me not joining your side a year and half ago."

Pitch simply sighed and rolled his eyes, Jack simply didn't forgot about it? "Of course not. I would say that the proposal was still on, but my kingdom already faltered, I have nothing to offer."

"Pfhhh, you could offer a lot of stuff to bribe me, like teaching me magic, making snow don't melt, making my creatures of snow think by themselves like your Nightmares. Not saying that I can be bribed but that would be a great way to do it." Jack said, fluttering his lashed while at it, and Pitch simply raised an eyebrow. Smooth, so very smooth.

"I went ages to make the Nightmares, I hope you don't wait to simply blink and you have them. But the rest I could _try_ to teach you." Pitch said quietly, as was waited from a master of magic on another master's lair. Jack though didn't follow the line of thought and simply squirmed in happiness and hugged him tighter, getting a chuckle from Toothiana.

"Thank you so much Pitch, I won't promise that I will join your numbers but if you want to do some scary stuff I would help, it's so funny the faces people make." Jack said and Pitch simply rolled his eyes.

"After okay, now Leila will fed him." Nicholas said and the yeti lowered a plate big as a shield and when it was placed in front of him Pitch blinked and froze. There was so much food that went from meat to pasta and all warm, smelling great and Pitch simply noticed he was staring and shaking minutes after.

"Pitch, when did you last ate?" Nicholas asked and Pitch snapped out of the trance, eyes wider than they normally were and the Nightmare King had to swallow the water on his mouth to speak.

He was shaking hard, and trying to make it cease down by all means. Time had passed and he even didn't noticed, and now not only North and Helga were staring at him with worry but now Tooth and Jack were too.

"One year... and eight months. I forget sometimes to eat." Pitch said sincerely, and waited the backfire. He was a spirit and the lack of food could make horrible things, but to him, not surely human, he starved and besides hunger and pain, and some loss of weight, it didn't harm him really badly. North sighed, and the sound startled him.

"We have then a long work to do." Nicholas said with a sigh, and Pitch simply wished he wouldn't start eating like a starving dog. Too late though.

**Ta-Da! Review! Who review now will have a familiar, a wolf's ghost! Come on! I doesn't hurt to review, the Guest mode is your friend!**


	6. C6 - Issues

**Hell yeah! Open another page on your Google Chrome / Mozilla / Whatever. I'm on Rock in Rio right now and I got James Hetfield's pick. So that's mostly why I didn't post this yesterday. Just now. Yeah, burn me for singing Master of Puppets and crying myself off.**

**PandaAttack2109: **Did you like it? I am so happy for your review! Keep on and keep alive! I will give the Nightmare more features after.

**Takeno: **Hey Takeno... remember the chapter six I said I wrote for ya? I counted it wrong, it's actually the 7 that is made for ya... Don't burn me and just wait six days, will ya? *hides*

**Less BLAH and more fiction! Here, have this disclaimer: **I don't have it. **Now****, ****proceed**** to ****the**** real ****thing****.**

**Chapter**** 6 – ****Issues**

It was madness. He heard things from Pitch's mouth that he wanted to point as lies, but he couldn't, for there was real evidence of it and if he wanted to lie, the Nightmare King certainly could do better. He was speaking the truth though. It was a mystery to North how Pitch was alive in the first place. He didn't know if Pitch was the best king on the story or the worst.

Pitch had starved, fed his Nightmares with his own essence, despaired when they died and worked to the bones to bring them back, he was surely the best king North could ever think of. Though, a king that forgot to fed himself and do simply things in life such as sleeping and taking baths, couldn't be considered a good king at all.

The only things that Pitch seemed to remember frequently was how he missed his Nightmares, the time that would take for things go back to normal, and the fact that he hated light.

All blurred though when North gave him the plate of food, okay that the plate was enormous, not even he could eat such thing, but yet, the glance Pitch sent him made his skin crawl. Those golden irises were a sea, and the pupils nothing but a single dot, an animal's glance, a predator's expression was on him, and North wouldn't think strange if Pitch simply barked and attacked the food like a starving dog.

He made Tooth and Jack go out to give Pitch a bit more of privacy, though the Nightmare King acted as an overly obedient dog, he was starving, but he wouldn't eat until someone allowed him to. When North said he could and should start eating, took seconds for the dark knight get a fork with his trembling hands and pick the first piece of meat. From them to there, Pitch's behavior evolved in front of his eyes.

He started shy, and five minutes later Pitch wasn't sitting on the bench anymore but up and on a starving trance, North lost the count of how many forks Pitch ate together forgetting to be careful with them, which make North realize how strong those fangs were.

Pitch though, between a breath and another, assured him that not mattering how many pieces of steel or glass he ate, his stomach dealt with it like if they were meat. Pitch disliked wood though, but he could eat as well.

The toy maker decided that Pitch was definitely a strange creature. He not only ate forks and almost two kilograms of food, mostly meat, to the happiness of Helga, the chef of the workshop, but also seemed completely fine after it.

If North was starving he probably could each too two kilograms, but then he would be a lazy mess and the slightest moment would be painful. Pitch that was thin like a bamboo and he ate all that like if it was but a normal meal, and proceed to try some of Helga's desserts with a conjured bottle of wine.

Finishing it, he showed Pitch his workshop and introduced him to many of his yetis, who seemed quite uncomfortable at first, but seeing after that Pitch wasn't putting much of a threat, they welcomed him, and he trusted them to be left alone with the Nightmare King, even the elves. It would be interesting to him to see another grumpy creature on his workshop that wasn't any of the yetis or Bunny.

Tooth took the Nightmare King to her home and gave a better look on his teeth, not that he thought it was necessary though. It was a great thing since she was the better dentist of the whole magical world, she found it endlessly interesting their natural sharpness, uncommon dark color closer to the gums and hardness.

She didn't believed how she was able to punch one out when they meet, for what she said, they were destructible like titanium. And Pitch, not amused by her ramblings, left it clear by eating one of her tools.

Pitch was bad, yes, but with them he was bad on a socially acceptable way. He ate Tooth's tools, he made sure of scaring Bunny on a way that the Pooka couldn't blame him, he refused to get close of Sandy because of their sands, and some other things, like giving death glares to the elves until they got too scared to wave, what they did every time they saw Pitch, and made them run in fear with a Nightmare snake behind them.

He was worst though when talking about Jack. But when one would think he was bad with Jack, they would be completely, utterly wrong. Pitch and Jack would join to be awful to the others, and Pitch's statement would proof true. What's better with dark than cold?

They simply were awful, and not simply to the Guardians but to other spirits and humans as well, there was Halloween, there were thirteen Fridays and cloudy days for them to make the human life a hell on earth, with Jack's face which remembered a ghost with its paleness on mirrors and shadows that moved.

But, even when slightly annoying sometimes, Jack kept Pitch's plots harmless and funny, and Pitch made Jack's ideas work and upgraded. Jack had the spirit and Pitch had the power and knowledge, and I couldn't agree with Pitch more, they were made to work together. To good or bad, and after two months they became glued like brothers. Not brothers though, for their age difference was just too much.

Two months, North didn't even felt them. Making the math, it was already one year and eight months since their battle, and now already on November, he hadn't time to stay and think about how great those last two months have been. The Nightmare King just didn't had the love from Bunny, but from others, he became an normal sight.

Jack simply couldn't leave him alone, Tooth needed to drink tea with him, if not she would have an attack, Sandy would make that kind of talk only Pitch and he could do, and the Sandman was simply happy on picking books borrowed.

And to North himself though, we could see that Pitch acted a bit different. More patient. More willing to hear than speak. He had no doubts that the Boogeyman still wondered about his reasons for saving him, but he stood quiet and was cordial.

When North would get hours on his working table doing something, Pitch would float on his black sand with a book and read, they would talk, and even sometimes North could get Pitch to sincerely laugh. To the Toy maker, his favorite expression of Pitch was his laughter, not the sarcastic one but the true, it was the sweetest and musky sound he ever heard in his life.

He could stay hours wondering about Pitch, he actually did, wonder was his core, but Christmas was arriving and he actually was busy. The Nightmare King was on his mind every day at some point, even when he wasn't around, and North couldn't tell why that happened. Of course he somehow was responsible for Pitch's actions, but yet he felt it wasn't simply like that. He just knew he wanted the other closer, to Pitch to be a bit more open with him, it would make him so happier.

"The Guardian of Wonder is wondering, how ironical." He heard and he simply rolled his eyes, but smiled. He had almost forgotten about the dark spirit floating just a few meters from him. He floated on the black sand like if he was lying crossed on a chair, a large book on his lap and a goblet of fine wine on his hand. He seemed interested, giving the arch of his eyebrows.

"Da. That's must be why I'm the Guardian of Wonder. So, what you're reading this time?" He asked and the dark spirit caressed the book like if it was some sort of good friend of long ages. Maybe it was, it indeed looked old.

"Preparing the lesson, Jack will return soon and he will want a new spell, after all the one I gave him is quite limited and he learns fast." Pitch said and North smiled, he could see some sincere worry on the Boogeyman's face, hidden, inside and behind his bones, but it was there and North could sense it.

He knew Pitch sounded like if he didn't care at all and it was all but a charge, but North had a glimpse of his smile when Jack learned an spell and commemorated. Pitch smiled prideful, like Jack was but a son, like if his son was following his path, and then it disappeared, to a normal smile, cool and somewhat scary.

"He does. A good boy he is, I am happy he became a Guardian, before he was only an spirit, there wasn't much I could do for him. I know how the loneliness was bad for him." North said, while making a doll that he could send as model for the yetis after he was done.

"It isn't fair what the Man on the Moon did, I won't forgive him for what he has done to him." He could hear Pitch saying, and after that a whisper he wasn't sure he even heard. "To us."

"Neither do I, but I assume he knows better." North said, he didn't agreed with Manny for what he had done with Jack, but yet, would Jack be the kind boy he was today if he hadn't. Pitch held something close to a murderous glance, and then he drank his wine quietly. When the goblet was lowered, the face wasn't there anymore, but a more contained one, of repression of his own thoughts.

The silence followed, and somehow it wasn't an awkward one, but a softer, like if they knew it was better than talking any further, and they welcomed it. North really did welcome it, until a thought ran on his mind and he smiled to himself and picked a broomstick he had around exactly for those moments.

"Hey, I am sure that you didn't program anything for Christmas, did you?" He asked with a large grin on his face, and with the broomstick he put it on Pitch's stomach and slowly pulled down, making the floating Nightmare King lower more and more.

He had fought it once, twice, but after some time Pitch had simply given up. North was sure that if the broomstick wasn't of wood the Boogeyman would have destroyed it already, as he did to everything that people used to poke him with and he disliked. Jack had a bite mark on his staff as a reminder of this, and North almost lost a hand another time, which made him use the broomstick for safety. Why, he wished he knew why the Nightmare King was so eager to bite stuff.

"I am sorry Nicholas, I have a meeting with a Japanese death spirit, I settled it a week ago." Pitch said and North searched for any sight that the dark knight was lying, and to his surprise, he found none. He felt heartbroken at the moment, and didn't even noticed that his grin had disappeared.

"Is that so? Sad, I hope you enjoy it." North said, and turned to his doll and putting the broomstick on the side of his worktable. The world suddenly seemed a bit less bright, he sincerely wasn't waiting that from the Nightmare King, since Pitch seemed always open to invitations and without main plots to put to work, except from the general coordination of the Fearlings and Nightmares that were once more on the world, he was always up to something.

North held himself from sighing, not wanting to be heard. Well, it was okay, if Pitch wanted to pass **his **holiday with another creature, he was certainly free to, and ignore the fact that North had the best Christmas of the world. It wasn't like if he owned Pitch, or like if the Nightmare King had to stay with him on Christmas. North was so deep in his own sad thoughts that didn't feel the warm breath on his neck.

"I can't believe you believed on me." It came on his left and North almost jumped. Pitch was known for biting, having a quantity of metal to eat per day, hissing, hating light, doing black magic, being naturally frightening sometimes, and when you less expect it, to whisper on your ear on the most creepy way he was able to do. This later was awkward, but Jack, North and Sandy already got used to that. It was weird but, hey, so did everything on Pitch.

"Thank you for that, I was already brooding." North answered and Pitch chuckled, leaving his neck and instead sitting on the border of North's worktable, his arms crossed and a sharp but sincere smile on his lips. This one wasn't a pure and innocent smile, but it was natural, like if since Pitch was born he was some sort of liar or thief. It was his nature, and the fact it was natural made North not able to hate it.

"I can't believe you trusted me, I have such infamy. Besides, even if I had a meeting with Enma Dai Oh, I certainly wouldn't go on Christmas. Where else would I hide my leather on Christmas?" He asked, and North grinned so largely that he had to make sure if he wasn't cutting the corners of his mouth.

"Spending your Christmas with us?" North said with so much happiness that it would be probably overwhelming the dark spirit, dark spirits had a tendency of hating and getting sick with purity, contentment, and shiny things. Pitch turned his face, prideful and high like the Nightmare King he was known for.

"I was going to hide under your bed, you wouldn't mind since you would be enjoying it and giving gifts, but if you want my dark, tainting presence that much..." Pitch had no time to react and North crushed the poor Boogeyman on a hug, he was getting his Christmas gift this year, the Toy maker thought. It had lightened him on a way he didn't even though it was possible, he seemed to like Pitch more than he wanted to admit for himself. He could feel the Boogeyman gasp for air and inhale slowly, but he cared not, it wasn't like he would die just by that.

"Thank you Pitch, that will be a great Christmas, better than the one from last year!" North said, not releasing the Boogeyman, and he simply sighed in contentment, hugging him seemed so warm, so soft, which was strange for someone as Pitch, he knew that the Boogeyman was thin yet now he couldn't help himself but fell flesh, not only bones under him. He found himself wondering how it was under his coat.

"Call the paramedics…" The dark rider muttered and when he was released, North almost had to hold him from falling. It seemed that the Nightmare King was still fragile, or North simply was too harsh on the little nasty Boogeyman. Pitch leaned on the table once more, looking grumpy to the Toy maker, but North knew that he wouldn't stay like that forever.

"Awn _dorogoy_, don't be dramatic. So, any idea of what you want on Christmas?" North said and he was surprised to see a sweet and utterly fake smile on Pitch's lips, as he looked all but mischievous and hopeful at the same time. It was so sudden the change that North couldn't tell which expression was the real one, the one of expectation or of mischief.

"I was trying to get a rocket launcher some good two weeks for now, and I simply wondered if you wouldn't be able to give me one?" Pitch asked, fake innocence wailing in waves from him, and North found himself wondering where in the heavens he could get a rocket launcher. Then good sense kicked in, and North was happy it did.

"_Nyet_. I'm not getting you a rocket launcher Pitch, that's not safe, and not a present of Christmas." North said and Pitch pouted, and North had to laugh loudly at that, the Boogeyman was absurdly cute when pouting to a being of darkness and evil machine. He just wished that Pitch let himself more carefree like that when in public, not only when alone with him.

"But I have been such a nice Boogeyman, I should be rewarded." Pitch complemented, arrogant with his own good behavior. It was true that, mainly, he didn't nothing drastically mean, but yet North couldn't let Pitch win this one over. That and the fact that Pitch wasn't entirely an angel, he had eaten at least half of Tooth's tools, he shouldn't be rewarded for that.

"Not really. Bunny is still suffering with Nightmares that not even Sandy is able to get rid of and Tooth have to buy new tools for herself." North said and the Nightmare King simply rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and moving to conjure a goblet of wine.

"Being a good boy is harder than I thought. Okay then, I may just stay with the naughty. No rocket launchers for this one." He said, between a sip and another. "I'm hurt, I have been trying so hard."

North laughed and simply hugged the Nightmare King, not a bone breaking hug, but just to enjoy the warmth of Pitch's body once more. It was strange, he expected Pitch to be cold as a dying stone, but he was warmth, almost feverish, and every time he touched him. "No, you're a good Boogeyman, I was kidding. But I'm not getting you a rocket launcher. Why are you so warm by the way?"

"Maybe because you stupid Guardians hug me so much that I don't have even how to cool a bit. It's my smell? I know I look irresistible but you could ease down." Pitch said, and North chuckled. The Nightmare King complained and struggled, but after some time he simply sighed and left people hug him. Or his legs, as was the case of Sandy. North knew not the reason of the others, but to him, he hugged the dark knight because he was warm, comfortable, and he was simply too damn lonely, and didn't want to say it loud.

"No, I will hug you how much I think it's necessary." North said stubbornly, and Pitch simply rolled his eyes, and left him to hold him like some sort of thin, dark grumpy doll. North released him eventually, and when he did, Pitch simply drank the rest of the wine on a single shot, until North took the goblet from his lips.

"Enough, you drink more than I would ever drink in my whole life." The Toy maker said and after some seconds the question strike on his head. "Pitch are you addicted? Alcoholism is an illness you know."

The death glance he received was murderous, enough to slaughter twelve large men and an average woman on the spot. "No, I'm not addicted okay, I just like savoring a good wine. Is that a sin?"

"It is when you cannot stop it and drink like if it was water." North said, stubborn yet worried with the Boogeyman, he drank simply too much, he was probably addicted already.

"I am not addicted and I can stop it. I just won't because I don't want to." He said stubbornly and set himself free from the Toy maker, moving out of the reach of the Russian, elegant, but swift movements like a cat called the attention. North suddenly found his mouth dry. He wanted to stop the Boogeyman from moving away, the closer he was the better, but it wasn't like if he would say that loud, it was madness to have such thoughts in the first place.

"I don't think so." North said, a bark close of a dog's, and Pitch raised an hairless eyebrow to that. Like dog and cat, one rough and large, but soft inside, the other elegant and independent, but needy within. There was no way they could be around without being at each other's throats. And, surprisingly, they simply worked well, smooth and progressive.

"Oh really? Well, let me tell then that what you think doesn't matter to me." Pitch spoke, cold and poisonous like a snake, while inside, North could so clearly see that he didn't mean it, he didn't want to shove him away. For even when Pitch couldn't take being around them anymore, he simply stood a bit more, very much like an masochist, but in truth was because he needed it, he needed to have someone around, he didn't want to be alone.

"Whatever. Are you going to treat it?" North said, and he could almost hear Pitch snapping, like an thigh fishing line. Pitch though, when he snapped, he had an reserve wire that kept him from doing anything senseless, he could be so easier to deal if he just left himself storm freely, but no, he chimed out controlled and conscient, in turns and waves.

A smart, wise and hard thing to do, it destroyed him inside, but made his rage keep what he cared safe, and free to destroy what he hated. North though, was crossing the line of being enemy or ally. It was strange how in thin seconds Pitch's frame could change. He suddenly seemed taller, stronger, his arms seemed longer, able to reach the toy maker in less time than he could expect, and they looked thin and weak, but magically strong and wouldn't budge.

From an friendly spirit to a wild beast. His face seemed more dangerous than any scowl, his teeth, his canines mostly, could be seen, and they seemed to glow when against the black of inside the Boogeyman's mouth, those pupils would be wide and the iris a thin golden ring, and doesn't mattered light or darkness, was like if they could see the Toy Maker wherever he was. North couldn't help but to really fear for his life, he couldn't tell if Pitch would simply attack him or return to his peaceful state.

When he talked, it was like a prophecy being spoken by a fallen dark god, that even when fallen, he was mighty and undying. The room seemed darker, and every muscle of the Russian ached, called for him to run and at the same time, didn't let him move a single bit. He wanted to say to Pitch calm down, but he couldn't speak.

"There is no way of treating something that isn't to be treated." He spoke like if it was the deepest true in the whole world, and in that second, to North it simply believed it was. "Never speak of it again, not to me, neither to anyone. I won't permit it to happen and run unpunished again."

North wanted to nod, to contest, but instead he wasn't able to do nothing. He simply stared as those piercing golden eyes, eyes that were wicked and called for him to embrace that same wickedness stared at him, swallowing him, and he couldn't do nothing besides stare back, in fear and unwillingly surrendering to them. Too much fear that he couldn't react. He snapped minutes after, and when he looked around, Pitch was already gone.

He was alone on his workshop, not a single grain of black sand to prove that Pitch had been there on the first place. It felt like an illusion, and now, North simply felt exhausted. He sat on his chair and exhaled, that breath simply seemed that he was holding it for hours. Maybe he was. He couldn't shake the ghost of those eyes and that face from his mind, neither the effect it did on his body.

The Russian couldn't believe it, when Pitch did all those horrible things it seemed like if it wasn't him, but an beast instead. On the last months, he could tell, swear that beast had died, revealing the real Pitch under its heavy hide. But it was not. And when he felt Pitch angered now, when he felt Pitch's loneliness and when he felt his rage, there was no way to separate it. It was from the same creature, Pitch was that beast, he truly was and at the same time, he had another side.

It was strange, he never experienced one being able to be as two faced as Pitch Black. He was so frightening and deadly at one moment, like that North couldn't see nothing besides his anger, a profane desire to kill and torture, and then he would be normal okay, patient, and under this stoicness he could see his loneliness and worry.

"What a mess you are Pitch..." North whispered, the breath going out on a sigh. He simply closed his eyes for a moment, he had still too much to do to bring peace to an haunted and disturbed soul such as Pitch Black.

He wanted the Boogeyman to be safe, well, and maybe found light on his path, but this little shown just showed the deadly path that was yet to be crossed. What could he do to change it, it was the main question. There wasn't a rulebook to simply find an result to any problem the dark rider would show. Pitch was patient, really was, but was full of wounds, and the slightly press, unwilling and the smoothest it may be, brought a deadly bite just back.

"Just don't do anything foolish while out, _dorogoy_..." North whispered like some sort of prayer, before he returned to the doll he was doing, there was no use of worrying now, he couldn't find the Boogeyman even if he wanted. He just had to wait for Pitch to return and... hopefully discover he did nothing bad while he was in his rampage of controlled and dangerous hate.

The Russian's heart suddenly ached, a pain he knew exactly what it meant. Worry. He missed and cared for the Nightmare King just too much already. There was something on the air that said Pitch was indeed going to find trouble. He knew not front where it came, but it was still true.

**Look at the crappy chapter, the crappy chapter is amazing! REVIEW OR I WILL KILL PITCH AND END THIS FICTION ON THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

-I'm joking. But review damnit!


	7. C7 - Meet the Beast

***Add epic song here* I HAVE RETURNED! TAKENO, MEET YOUR CHAPTER! I hope you like it, here it is, delay no more. For you, fellow reader, I hope you fasten your seatbelts, because remember the description that got you here? Dark themes, shape-shifting Pitch and stuff? I fulfilled my promise. More is to come, if you like, do tell me.**

**After Jeremy annoying me because I didn't give him money for GTA V, I decided to use his beautiful name as one of the spirits. Not because I love him, but because I need this money and he doesn't shut up.**

**Last of all, Stats say to me Brazilians passed here, so if you come from there, leave a review goddamnit, I don't want to be alone anymore. É sério vei, da o review logo. É o botãozinho sussa ali em baixo. Plz.**

**PandaAttack2109: **Happy to see people understanding why I write such stuff. The eating-metal-thing will be brought up on the future, stick to it. Love you! Keep cool, keep nice, keep awesome.

**ConejitaYaoi: **I am happy you like the idea of an uke Pitch, there should be more PitchXNorth. I am a lover of plots so it may take some time for me to get them in real action, but I will try to make it sooner for ya. :D

**I heard to write this (So you may find lyrics): **Saint Anger, Metallica. Genre: Heavy Metal

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't own Metallica, though James owns my heart. Even if he doesn't know it. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 7 – Meet the Beast**

It was amazing how Jack seemed to attract trouble. Pitch shouldn't speak of it though, he wasn't any better, himself had the gift to do so, nothing seemed to go right with him.

"Slow down Pitch, I'm going to fly off this thing!" Jack yelled right on his ear, and he was sure Gehenna under him laughed mischievously and ran even faster on the skies. Pitch wanted to hit his head on the closest wall he found, when it was ended.

He flew off from North's workshop and was ready to bury himself on his Lair to keep him from destroying or hurting anything, when Jack had to cross his path. On that state, he simply roared to the younger spirit to get away from him, together with other burning awful words that simply hit the heart of the winter spirit. When he noticed what he had done, his anger simply melted away.

Pitch couldn't believe on the goodness on the heart of the boy, for when he finally got him from where he was hidden, explained him with sincerity, Jack so simply forgave him of everything he had done. They weren't that alike then, it seemed, for the Nightmare King knew he couldn't forgive someone that easily. But Jack did, and seconds after was like he didn't say nothing at all. Surprisingly, his anger was nowhere to be seen, and he was simply tired.

Jack saw this, and Pitch slowly left the true slip out, painfully slow, telling the winter child what had happened on the Workshop. Only for him to almost snap again, hearing from the boy he cared the most to simply say he was a arrogant, spoiled Boogeyman and North was right in the first place, that he, mighty Nightmare King, was an alcoholic, and not the normal ones, but the stubborn and blind ones.

He was without words on that, one thing was North say it, the other was Jack saying it. North he cared for, he wanted to please, yet such affront wasn't believable, while Jack was very much an apprentice or a son, if he said it, what could he do?

He certainly wouldn't harm him, nothing would change his mind from it, and at the same time, it sounded sincere and innocent, in a way that Pitch couldn't argue and simply try to understand.

Maybe it was true. Probably it was, yet he understood not, he found not any sort of abstinence, any sort of dependence to justify. He simply drank to savor and relax, it slowed him on the body but made his mind somehow sharper, it was great to plan things or simply wonder about things as a whole. He wished he had time to think, before of course his path was crossed awkwardly by a fire spirit.

It was near winter around Burgess, so Jack was on his little heaven, and the fire spirits were there planning nothing good. When Jack saw them though, he was ready to run or attack, and the fire spirits to burn the winter spirit out of existence. Hurried and fast explanations was everything he got, and he could only assume that the fire spirits wanted Jack's head for he had interrupted their plains on slowing down winter.

Fire spirits had issues and were aggressive toward winter spirits, that everyone knew, but yet Pitch wasn't waiting for that number being behind one. Jack was a Guardian, it was explained, yet it wasn't justified. Nine against one, it was unfair. Pitch hadn't returned to his full power yet, and while he could take them down with his scythe easily, fire spirits knew how to deal damage and he wasn't sure if he could defend Jack or heal himself properly.

So here they were, Jack almost squeezing the soul out of him as Gehenna, his favorite Nightmare ran like a bolt on the skies, what Pitch was used to, but Jack was almost biting off his tongue. Pitch inhaled as he moved back and prepared one black sand arrow, and sent it flying from over his Nightmare in movement to the heart of the fire spirit that flew just too close.

"You killed him?!" Jack squirmed and gripped on his chest for dear life even tighter. Pitch rolled his eyes, yet they had their pupils small, the beast he was, was on a thrill. He wouldn't do anything out of his control, yet the thrill was something fantastic, it controlled whole body and mind, bringing him to want a fight cost whatever it cost.

"No, now stay quiet." He said, as he fired other arrow and missed another fire spirit by inches. Gehenna was the Nightmare that fed him since he arrived at the Workshop, and she of course had a place even deeper on his heart. She was the only survivor, the only Nightmare that saw his defeat and fought on it, and she had now title between other, she became lieutenant, and a Nightmare Pitch really cared for.

She when not checking on others Nightmares, she was around him on the form of an anaconda, following him and consequently being known by the other Guardians. They knew about the single Nightmare that didn't look at them like if they were food, and brought news to Pitch. She was smart, and showed that even more by evading every fireball thrown at them. Pitch thanked her for that as he prepared another arrow and shoot.

It found its way on another fire spirit and he fell, snapping out of his senses and falling straight toward the snowy forest floor. Pitch cared not if it was too high and they probably would get killed by the fall, they should know better than attack Jack. Of course, Jack was annoying and interrupted every good dark plan one could try to make up, but yet it wasn't a good reason to try to kill him and Pitch on the mean time.

Blasts of ice were useless, they were few and against the fire spirits who flew together they easily melted, causing Jack to hit his back uselessly in frustration. Pitch forced himself to concentrate as he shoot again, and the number of nine spirits decreased to four, five were down and already growing distance.

"Pitch, lower the height, let's go down, they won't follow us anymore." Jack said over the sound of the wind, Pitch really had to agree, if they kept that pace they would go away from Burgess, and if alone there, who knew what the fire spirits would do to the sleeping children? He didn't need to speak as Gehenna turned and lowered the heights, flying closer to the trees and communing with the shadows beneath.

He could feel like if he was but a shadow himself what lay beneath them, the forest was perfectly seen, and he could also see the bodies, not exactly see, but if he closed his eyes he could see them, as everything else. A supernatural sixth sense, another hint that made him wonder what exactly he was.

Yet, it was useful and he wouldn't flame it now. He smirked as he saw the bodies of the fire spirits on the snow floor, four were alive, but the five he sent down were severally hurt from the fall.

The Nightmare stopped on the edge of Burgess which was closer from Jack's lake, and the winter and dark spirits jumped out. Sniffing the air, Pitch could tell, there was fear on the wind, but it wasn't from the children sleeping around.

The night was still young, and he could see Sanderson hadn't passed by yet, but his Nightmares and Fearlings were already working. He had made an agreement with him, they would give children Nightmares or dreams on different times and days, on a plan which no one would interfere with the other's job, and keep the balance.

Some children were his for the day in Burgess, others were Sanderson's, but now wasn't this fear he was feeling but another's. A more powerful fear, one able to sustain his body for weeks. A fear that would make him stronger, better. It was fresh, it was eternal, was shiny red and absolute black. It was his to hunt, his to fed, and his to rejoice on.

"Jack, keep on the shadows with Gehenna for the case if they come to the city, the woods are dark now and I can check it faster than you would." He said, and he could see Jack ready to argue, but a deadly glance shut him up. There was no time to argue, and he needed Jack to hear him at least once, for a good cause.

In the start it really was a good cause, but every second he was on it, it became tainted and dark. The hunted became hunter, and his lips were dry, making him wet them with his tongue in anticipation frenetic and anxious.

"With Gehenna? She will bite my hand off!" Jack complained and he didn't needed to stare at the Nightmare to see the almost smirk the shadowy horse held. _'I will cease it for once. Go hunt, milord.'_ Her voice was evil but smooth on my mind, but in a thrill such things were ignored.

"Just don't touch her that much, climb on and don't annoy her, let her do the walking, be just an extra pair of eyes and keep silent." Pitch muttered and Jack sighed before he jumped on the back of the Nightmare as she ran into the dark alleys, diving into the shadows, and when one would hit the wall strongly, she simply dived inside with Jack like if in some sort of portal. Pitch smiled evilly, she knew what ran on his mind.

Stepping into shadows himself he teleported to the forest, the woods were filled with snow , which made the gold and red of the clothing of the fire spirits even easier to spot. Not that he needed colors anyway. He wanted to hunt, and don't be spotted. Closing his eyes a bit his senses and acknowledge of things seemed to drift off, the hunter and the beast dictated the rules, and Pitch simply desired he could do such things more times.

Silent as death he moved, he couldn't even feel his muscles moving, he was untiring and eternal, a natural hunter, and noises weren't heard, they didn't even exist, as darkness and long strides carried him forward. Every movement had grace, natural and fluid, his eyes adjusted to the black and white scene, and as they always did when there was lack of colors, they became silver, and reflected light, like a wolf's eyes.

Strides got faster as the tracking of the scent got deeper, fresher, new on his lungs, and the flux was even faster, his movements were long and graceful, if not deadly, different from Bunnymund where his animal movements were frenetic and fast, like the rabbit he was, Pitch was an elk and a panther, dark, noble, long, flexible and deadly. The thrill of the hunt brought the animal side on him, and when he became the beast, he was nothing less than the mightiest one. He was a predator, made to slaughter.

His eyes became golden as he got closer of the preys, when they were silver they most didn't differ colors, but they knew and could feel even more details than the golden ones, they acknowledged not only his perspective, but instead he could see from many spots at once, he was one with shadows, and at the same time, more sincere with them.

His golden ones were for colors, they were the facade, the mask, and they protected him from light and anyone who would try to get the truth out of them. Consequently, the last one became more common. Golden eyes pierced from the darkness, as now he already had the surroundings on his mind, he would study the Prey, and what better than colors? He stopped, quiet on his dark shadow spot as he studied and listened.

"I'mma scared Jeremy, lets go 'way, it was foolish to attack Frost when Pitch was with 'im." A woman muttered, pulling the sleeve of a young man, his blond hair was wild but he cared not as he looked at the shadows and searched, his steps made the snow melt and he almost had to drag the other fire spirit, as she seemed frozen in fear to move.

"The way Pitch spoke, there was no way to tell he was on Jack's side. Besides he was an ally for ages, I was sure he would only act and then join us." He said and every hair on Pitch's hair went up, an inborn instinct of alert, driven by understanding and possessiveness. Jack did nothing bad, they were simply hunting him because he was a frost spirit. It wasn't unusual, but the number showed it wasn't only of intimidation or to leave a warning, it was for a kill.

"What a jerk! That creepy bastard was an ally! He just ruined it all by siding with that monron" The woman muttered, laughing of her own joke and relaxing a bit. The man though paid no mind, and Pitch could see how he was far more intelligent than the stupid blonde at his side. He acknowledged Pitch's power and was searching for his way to his fellow allies. A candle can be easily blown out, but a whole conflagration was far harder to be turn down.

"Less talking more walking, I am not sure I can cast a flight spell again and we should find the others soon, isn't safe here, Pitch probably know these lands as his lair is nearby, it's dark and he is pissed at us. We are in danger, it isn't training." He said and the woman pouted before following. "If we regroup we might report to the Emperor, you know he won't be happy to know we failed him in such menial task. He wanted Jack's head badly, he is one of the stronger winter spirits lately, since MiM have a special liking on him and he is a Guardian."

It was like if someone kicked his stomach at full strength, they wanted to kill Jack for some useless reason, to kill him because he was far more powerful than many fire spirits. They wanted Jack's head, his Jack's head.

Pitch ached, every muscle ached, he wanted to destroy, to torture, to make the worst at this guy and that bitch after him. His rage wanted to be freed, undisciplined and wild, it wanted to take over, and for the first time in ages, he wondered if he could leave it to be freed.

He was holding himself for so much time now, Jack was far, every innocent's life was far, and the thrill was maddening, he wanted to behave, he wanted to be good, he wanted to find some sort of redemption, but he was a monster and even with his denying, he couldn't change it.

The Guardians didn't know how it hurt, how it hurt on the depths of his soul to keep himself from killing, from slaughtering, from torturing and letting his rage go free. It was being contained for ages, and it was destroying him.

His knees faltered and he held on the closest tree from falling down. The thrill was yelling at his face, calling him into every indulgence, into every pained spot he had, and promised to heal it, if not forever, for a while, at least while he indulged on the need of cataclysm and blood. It hurt, the fight simply hurt too much...! He had never tasted such thing, when he didn't fear hurting something he cared, it was easier.

Now though, resisting was foolish. It kept repeating on his head how everything he cared for was far, that if he left it takes over now, he would have time to get to control again and return. Return to the control of what he knew not, but that he would return to his good senses he probably would. No one would witness it besides those two.

They deserved, they wanted to kill Jack, they deserved.

He couldn't stand anymore the pain, that was far worse than any physical pain, it was one of inside, like if a snake had spawned inside of him and it grew and grew, it twisted its long strong body inside him, tearing from the inside organs and bones, opening the space for its growing body, the scales burning with their harshness, as they itched and cut his insides like small infinite razors.

A line of black blood ran down his mouth and he wiped it with the back of his hand. His eyes were set on the prey, they were the ones to blame for that pain, they were the ones who called upon it! Their fault! Their! He shook his head and he couldn't stand it anymore. He dropped on fours as he yelled, pure pain and hatred on his yell sent fear inside the fire spirits' heart, and he cared no more for his cover.

He heard yells but he couldn't understand them. His vision went blackish and that snake inside him changed his body, stretching his back and making them wider, larger, and stronger. His arms followed the frame, pain unbearable, yet he could feel his muscles changing, his body changing, his clothes being tired out as they were just too tight for the new body. Legs became stronger, and they didn't bow to the front anymore, knees now bowed back.

Hands? No. Enormous pawns held shiny black claws, that mixed with the black fur made for the cold. His head changed, getting longer and mouth wider, now opening on an angle he couldn't before. Behind waved a long tail, made for equilibrium.

Pitch could feel the strength on this new body, the human body wasn't made for hunting, for killing. Even his teeth weren't the best for hurting, nails weren't made to fight, legs weren't made for long and run-for-your-life races.

This one was much better. He now was much better, this body answered any kind of need of his. The thrill was able to work easier here, the rage now had the control. He could answer the call, his own inner call for mayhem and blood. Once on fours, as he knew he was meant to be, how he was faster and deadlier, he stood on the back pawns. He wasn't a wolf, he was a werewolf.

It was the perfect balance of man and wolf. He was better on his four pawns, but when he rose to his two back ones he was taller than before, his mind was sharper than it have ever been, but he could easily tell he was far taller than himself before. He couldn't see his skin, only the black fur that seemed to absorb every hint of light and taint it in darkness. He threw his wolf-ish head back and scream on the pain.

What came out though, was the grow of a wild beast, a mix between roar and growl, as his jaws opened on their maximum to release it, the claws unsheathed, claws longer and more made to hold and tear than wolf's usually were. He had a new body to set his bloodlust and anger out. A new body to fed and care for. A body of his own, better than the one of before. And he was ready to make the pain stop.

After that, as if it wasn't before, thinking became some sort of blur, he didn't need deep thoughts, the fast ones and basical were what he needed. He knew he was hungry, and his prey was fleeing, trigging the chase.

Oh, and how mighty he was on the chase.

The chase master. Lord of the Hunt. The Nightmare King.

He couldn't try to remember the details, it was the key, if he kept the memories as unfurled, it was better. Now though, the feast was served.

He cleared the woods, and brought it to his territory, the most closed side of the forest, which the darkness seemed just too much, and only a clearing on the middle of the woods had the light of the moon bare, without branches and trees to make it fall on lesser strays.

Smaller flashes of light that would fall on black fur and end there. There was nothing else to see on that black fur, which would move with the smallest wind, yet the skin of the huge creature made of muscles and strength under it would not.

They first saw glowing orbs, white light being reflected from their flashlights and torches, and then the white teeth glowing unholy on the darkness. If they didn't freeze in fear, they ran, and if they ran, he got them.

The werewolf had fluid large movements, exactly as he had before when human, he had now as werewolf. He was fast, faster than a normal horse if in a pain field, for that he was sure. He was fast as lightening, not that his prey needed such speed.

He wished they needed. His claws entered flesh and was like if pain disappeared completely, giving pleasure instead. Addicting, the hunt made the pain go lower and lower, and when he got them, it disappeared, diving his senses in a dark, unholy pleasure. When it started to dismiss though, he couldn't bear it, and ran to the other victims.

They had all died though and back on his conscience he knew he shouldn't get out of the forest. He wouldn't get out of the woods. The light didn't hurt his eyes anymore, he was stronger on the darkness, but the moonlight didn't harm him anymore. So when he returned to the clearing, he didn't bothered to move the corpse from where it stood.

He tainted the moonlight, he was stronger, his existence made the light somehow glow, but he was unaffected by it. The silver floated around him, dust, magic, he couldn't tell the difference, he simply knew it shined and that he cared not.

He was a beast, he always knew that, but he was kept away from the pleasure of being one. Why? Why if he was indeed a beast, what was the matter if he simply agreed and accepted what he was?

Maybe was because he was too powerful, if he was released on the mankind, he would kill them all and the times would be over. The same to spirits, they would be slaughtered trying to stop him. Now though, he rejoiced and defiled, laughing on his bestial way of the stupidity of those who choose his fate. What they wanted to hold back was free, and wouldn't be stopped.

Teeth dug into flesh, tearing open what was already destroyed, but now in smaller bits. The blood was warm, and it was the most refreshing thing he had ever tasted, he shouldn't have tried to mix with mankind, he was a monster and that was just what he needed.

Barely chewing he swallowed, and the muzzle was soon wet and dipping with blood. Feeding was a thrill itself, and every second he swallowed more and faster, getting used to the body that he was born to have.

The sounds could be heard from meters, the wet dark sound of a beast feeding on the recently killed victim, it was unholy, unnatural, yet, very much natural. The shadows his frame cast were enough for make he see how wonderful his new body was, he shouldn't have hold that anger, he wouldn't hold it, never ever again. The body was only bones, there was no magic able to bring this one back, he mused.

Claws opened the ribcage, and he couldn't only lick his mouth, loud and soundly. Jackpot. A mouthful was swallowed and he didn't stop, the sounds could be heard from the city maybe, but he didn't care. Now was his time of indulgence, was his time of rejoice and freedom. He was what he meant to be.

"P-Pitch...?" He heard, and all of his psyche broke down in tiny pieces. He had no reaction, the beast was perplex, he was perplex. Ears were at full height as he turned his face to look back. His tail sweep faintly in anxiety, as on his back pawns he rose and gazed at the frame.

If a face could break hearts, Jack's did. He stared at full horror and fear, pools of blue ice and only a dot on the middle. Tears ran down his face, on eternal waterfalls, and his whole frame did shake, he could see. He was a beast, a monster, but he did love, and he did think.

He was loyal, and it gave him pain to see the smaller spirit in such terrified state. He moved away from the open carcass, his front pawns almost touching the floor as he stood a bit curved, gaze on the boy.

Don't run... for the love of everything good on the world, don't run...

Jack turned and ran.

Pitch jumped on fours, and ran to the chase. His long legs and pawns were fast, and if Jack hadn't started the flight he would certainly have been caught. The trees were close and there was no free access to the skies, so Jack flew and evaded trees and branches, closer to the soil than he would have liked, knowing of the beast behind him.

He stalked, but as he followed, there was a moment when he couldn't see Jack anymore. The Nightmare King froze, and his nose went to work again, he couldn't let Jack get away, if he got, he would forever think he was a senseless beast, one that would harm him on sight, he would never, ever harm him. He couldn't let him get away, so he used his nose to find his scent, track him back.

Like that was slower, but efficient. Jack had a single scent, a cold but rare one, sweet but refreshing and soft, like a rare snow flower that Pitch couldn't put a name on. He knew he was getting closer with the temperature and degrees that lowered suddenly, a small change, yet he could tell the difference. Following the scent of the younger spirit, Pitch lurked on the shadows, and his eyes spotted the winter spirit closer of a tree.

He was on the floor, bruises and scratches filled his skin, his face was of pure terror and, at the same time, exhaustion, pain. His staff lay far, and he could only assume then he was flying when he hit one branch and fell. Pitch crawled closer, his breath and movements silent. He wanted to cry, to apologize, and to make sure he wasn't hurt. He would never say it loud, but he cared just too much for Jack. He wanted him to be safe.

He would be safe, he mused. Jack would be safe if he had kept a good distance from him. If he lost control, if he got angry with the boy just like he got with North, he would kill him, it wasn't a supposition, it would be fate.

He was dangerous, he shouldn't have tried to be human, he knew he wasn't a human in the first place, he always knew. And North, the simply memory hurt, how could he let such innocent, simple remark change him in that way?

There was a reason why he was the demon, the enemy, and it wasn't luck. He hadn't asked to be like this, yet he was a monster, he was dangerous, and should be feared, hated, kept away. He whimpered, his ears lowering and touching the back of his head. He could see Jack jump on the direction of the sound, and Pitch stepped out of the shadows.

His four pawns were made to snow it seemed, as they left big footprints but they were light and soft. Jack screamed in fear, and it echoed on the depths of Pitch's mind on a way that made he want to yell back. Jack should knew he wouldn't harm him, that his fear was nothing close to his own, for he was scared as well, worried, hurt. It was the case when both the prey and hunter here frightened of each other, and no more one was prey, and no more one was hunter. They became two hurtful defenders of their own.

Jack tried to get to his staff, but he couldn't move when Pitch held him down. One pawn on his arm, as his head full of blood came to touch the chest of the winter spirit. If a beast could cry, he would have cried, but no tear came from his eyes, except for the whimper that ringed on his throat. Jack's nails dig on his skin as he tried by all means to be freed, but he could not.

_Just stop fighting, just for once. Angelus glaciem._

He was in fear, and bringing all the strenght left on him he tried to take away the fear from Jack, his magic not giving any signs of working. He couldn't do magic in this form. He simply laid there then, letting Jack fight him, his nails pierce his hide and fists try to budge his body from his, but he wouldn't react, he wouldn't move.

He simply accepted every angry and fearful hit, waiting to be understood. The last thing he could try though was when he moved slightly and licked the side of the winter spirit's face, before lowering again and resting his head against the smaller chest.

At once, the nails stopped trying to harm and fists calmed down, his fingers then digging in his fur, getting on the smaller, inner fur made to fight the cold, and staying there. He wasn't forgiven, he wasn't accepted, Pitch knew it, and he just stood a bit more, his own broken heart keeping him from moving.

"Pitch... why? Why you killed 'em, why you're like that...?" The questions came and Pitch simply curled tighter, before leaving a whimper flee from the insides of his soul. Somehow Jack understood, and simply changed from holding on his fur to pet it carefully, his cool fingers were soft and sweet on his skin, and Pitch left himself drift off.

He knew not why he was like that, but he knew why he killed them. Because they harmed his small angel of snow. Pitch didn't regret it, not even if cursed him for the eternity and would make Jack and all the Guardians hate him as well. He would certainly do it again. He was a beast.

A possessive beast.

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**Partiu.**


	8. C8 - Undone

**Run to the hills and hide your feelings, 'cuz I feel the need to feast on them! BWAHAHAHA! So, how was your week? Leave a review, mine was boring, tell me about yours and what you think of this chapter. I wish I could write faster, soon I think I won't be able to post one for week. I know, it sucks.**

**PandaAttack2109: **I am happy someone mentioned the FACT I have been warning you people about the beast! It was really big like " I WILL DO SOMETHING DRASTIC". If people didn't figure it out yet, here it is. Yeah, Pitch into a momma bear state. I can tell it gets worse. Keep on!

**Behold new chapter! Warning! Here will be some romance, after all it's a NorthXPitch story… BRAH. Liar hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own a single thing, besides my tablet where I write on. And Jeremy. That guy is mine to. Dot.

**Chapter 8 – Undone.**

When he woke up, the fingers still were on his fur, just behind his ears. He yawned and slowly opened his eyes, the sleep was different from any he had ever had, it was short and hurried, but vastly resting and refreshing. He somehow was comfortable, even knowing he wasn't on bed. Neither under one.

He opened his eyes to stare at the sleeping form of Jack, a peaceful sleep, one he certainly didn't influence with his fear aura, his presence kept Nightmares and Fearlings at bay probably. They certainly thought their master already had chosen his prey for the night. It made his heart ache, he would never give a real Nightmare to Jack, not without a good reason behind, certainly not to fed himself or taste the fear.

He sat down and noticed two things. One, morning was coming, as he could see for the morning light that started to glow on them, and the fact he was naked. Not completely naked though, for a black blanket was warped around him, keeping him from being creepily naked over Jack, which he was really thankful for. He sat on his heels and sighed, warping the blanket a bit more around himself but still left his collarbone and a shoulder bare and exposed to the world.

Jack had a small bruise on the cheek, but he could see he hadn't any other serious injury. They both were bathed on blood though, he for being the beast he was last night, and Jack for being with said beast. Would Jack ever forgive him for what he had done, for traumatizing him in such way, for making him fear for his live, for making him think one he trusted went forward and betrayed.

His heart jumped when he blinked and noticed those eyes were open, they weren't a second before, but now they were. Those blue eyes were electric and wild, but funny and pure at the same time. When he looked at them and found fear and horror, he couldn't stand see himself on the mirror even if he tried.

It was torturous, it was by far worse than any punishment he ever could hope to have. He held Jack on the heart, for the boy was like him, he was his younger version, and he certainly would make sure he didn't ended like him.

Pitch shrugged when Jack touched his cheek with a small smile and pulled him to a hug. He simply closed his eyes and left his worry go down. On the form of tears though, not that he was ever proud of that, but pride had vanished on that moment.

"So you're a werewolf? So what? It only means I now have a dog, and North can't say no to you." Jack said gleefully and Pitch simply chuckled on that, a dog? Why he never asked him a dog? Pitch certainly would give Jack a dog, probably one as active as him. He received a kiss on the forehead from the winter spirit and simply sat down again, free from the boy's grasp.

"Not a werewolf though. I mean, not a real, lycantrophical one." He muttered and Jack rose an eyebrow and with the sleeve of his hoodie he started to dry the tears from his face. Pitch closed his eyes a bit, he couldn't remember a moment vaguely like this one. There was something magic on forgiveness that made even him truly smile and relax.

"I may know a lot of stuff just from poking into people's lives, but I don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about. Care to explain?" Jack asked with a smile that made Pitch smile back, it was refreshing, and on the moment, it didn't matter if he was older than earth, he simply felt as if him and Jack were but mischievous twin brothers that were strangely not very alike. He disliked touching, but the fact that was Jack patting him and drying his tears made it permitted.

"I am not a werewolf, the true werewolves generated from the lycantrophy from the legends. It was shape shifting, a thing I always knew I could do, but I never tried or needed. It was driven by rage and hatred, and it hurt so much holding back... I certainly wouldn't have allowed it to take over if it didn't hurt that much..." He muttered to himself almost, and in Jack's face there was certainly concern.

"It hurt? How? Isn't it an ability, how can it hurt by not using it?" Jack asked, and Pitch mused if he should tell Jack about it. He thought a bit, before he decided the winter spirit needed to know.

"It is driven by need, anger, hunger, any desire that I may hold. It is dangerous, and when I hold this power to stay... human, it hurts. Because if I release the smallest disagreement could end with me on someone's throat." He said and when Jack moved to take his hand from him, he simply held it.

He didn't want to feel alone, he hated being alone, and even this small gesture, in his mind, felt like abandoning. He didn't want to be left alone. Jack smiled a bit, before pulling Pitch until he rested his head on the winter spirit's chest.

"Jack... there is a thing I noticed on these ages and this thing just proved it, is that... that I'm not definitely human. I don't know if I ever were, and there is things I do that... no other spirit does, spirits would die making things I do, yet I survive. And things spirits do sometimes harm me. I don't know how to explain, but..." Pitch muttered, before shutting himself, it sounded so idiot, he should have made at least arguments, reunited at least some proofs, but he had nothing.

Jack chuckled a bit before poking his forehead and combing his hair back again, for it was messy in a way that remembered almost Jack's hair, their former setup was ruined with the de-transformation and the sleep on the woods and on Jack's chest.

"Again I ask you, so what? My best friends can be a bird woman, a Australian Pooka, a toy maker Russian, a midget man of sand and you with your identity crisis. No problem at all. And Jamie! Jamie is a human child, he too should enter the frame." He said and Pitch simply laughed a bit, a soft, small laugh, before closing his eyes again and enjoying the dawn. He hated dawn, but this one was far more comfortable than any other he had ever had.

"You make it sound so little. I'm dangerous Jack, not the kind that only would hurt intentionally, but the one that can hurt unwillingly as well. A monster, that finds pleasure on pain, fear and flesh." Pitch muttered and that won an even larger grin from the winter spirit. Jack sat up, making Pitch sit up as well.

The snow bringer jumped on his feet and picked his staff, before returning and giving Pitch his hand. The Nightmare King stared, both at the spirit as the hand with his head full of thoughts. If he accepted, what would be of him?

He would be friends with the lamb, he would have to make his best to keep the beast he was behaving and acting. Now he had turned, he had tasted of it, and it would be forever to tempt him. Even now, he felt how weak his current body was and he knew he could be stronger, faster. His current body wasn't made for hunting, running or feeding.

Never his own body felt so foreign to him than now. It was strange, he wondered if he could still walk. He shook his head though, it was but his smallest problem. If he turned and attacked one of the Guardians? If he killed someone such as Sanderson, Toothiana or even North, how could he deal with the fact he killed an innocent that he was in debt with?

He wouldn't be able to go through, for if he did, his humanity would be lost. Pitch surprised himself, noticing how far he went to hold on his humanity, to fight himself. But before, he was all alone, now though, destiny offered him a chance to try with someone at his side.

He raised his hand and went back to his feet, feeling the cold snow against his feet he feared slipping and falling, yet it was softer than he imagined and his feet simply entered like if it was mud or something of the sort.

"But you won't tell this to anyone. I have been hiding this since the end of the Golden Ages and I won't permit you to let it go, free on the winds." He said, and a frown was made on his face. He wasn't sure what he would do to Jack if he left it go loose, yet he knew it wouldn't be nothing good and he definitely didn't want to know.

"Okay, with one condition." Jack said with a large grin that made Pitch feel uncomfortable, the kind of grin that made Pitch look around and search for what made him so smug about. He definitely hated those grins, especially when he couldn't put his finger on what made the other grin, or when the grin wasn't on his side.

"I want to pat you when you're again on this werewolf form because your fur is awesome, and you will have to wear other things that aren't this stupid coat. I didn't knew you had feet." He said and Pitch had to look down, only to meet ankles and his own feet.

They were normal, nothing strange, yet to walk and actually see them was strange, he always wore the black boots and pants, the coat over everything that made him mix with the shadows, he couldn't see them. Now stopping to think, he felt strange actually seeing them. His legs were always that long? Seeing them was currently... nice. Made he feel human after all.

"I have. I don't mind patting neither, you Guardians already leave bruises with hugs on me, what patting can increase?" He muttered, but his lips curled on a smile. Jack smiled as well and nodded. A sound ringed on his mind and the Nightmare King turned to see Gehenna, the Nightmare getting closer, shielding her long body behind a tree, the tree they were against before.

"Good. Hey Gehenna, you left me to death! Pitch your Nightmare don't even helped me to flee from you!" Jack said, sounding sincerely angry for that, and the Nightmare horse didn't even dignified herself to answer, she simply rose her head and tucked at Pitch's blanket, until the Nightmare King caressed her and assured her mentally he was fine.

"Of course not, she knows better than helping the prey flee from his master." Pitch murmured, and the Nightmare whined and moved closer. Pitch always felt better when he was on the shadows, but if he couldn't be with them, being with one Fearling or his Nightmares too helped.

Made the light less excruciating to feel and be under. At least he was with his eyes of silver now, it was nicer to deal with the light, and made him calmer, as he cared not if Jack would read him or not.

"Ugh. Makes sense. I think I need a bath, thanks for filling me with blood by the way." Jack said, and something ringed on his mind. Did Jack wonder if he was in his full conscience when he ate those people?

Did Jack know he liked it when he tasted fresh blood and flesh? He wanted so much to ask, and yet he couldn't bring the question up. He lowered his eyes, no, he wouldn't destroy the day by questioning it.

"Okay, what you're hiding and why?" Jack asked and Pitch swallowed hard, but soundlessly. He blinked twice and forged a confused look. Damn it, damn it all. "I'm not hiding anything."

Jack raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, and Pitch somehow knew he was doomed. That was why he never left himself that open, silver eyed. "Really? So tell why your eyes changed color just now and suddenly you look all fine again, not warped on a blanket full of blood at all?"

"It's the climate." He answered maybe just too fast, and all Jack did was raise an eyebrow. Pitch sighed and dropped it, the mood was already killed, and there was no way of escaping it without making it clear he was hiding something. "Do you realize I was thinking when I killed those people, when I ate them even when not hungry, when I tear their flesh out while they lived and said their last prayers...?"

"I do. It was disturbing, yeah... but I know you won't do anything of that with any of us." Jack said and the poison was spread on his heart, running free and contaminating everything else on his heart, bringing pain and suffering while at it.

"That's the thing Jack, I might do it on one of you all if I lose control. Now it tasted the control, it will be harder, even more painful. I will be a circus beast, you know it obeys until certain point, and there will be a time when it may decide to misbehave and kill. And nothing can be done." He muttered and the Nightmare King jumped when he felt arms around his own shoulders and looking down, Jack was hugging him tightly.

"You're strong, I know will fight and keep it at bay, and at the same time, we can help you to exhale, let it go wild, and make sure you won't hurt anyone. I will do my best at least." Jack said and the least Pitch could do was warp his hands over the smaller figure, his smaller self, his own winter spirit for him to take care and seek the best path.

"Thank you. _Princeps mi_." Pitch muttered, and even if he could actually feel Jack frowning, he cared not. He simply held tighter, and for once, it was all he really needed.

X_xxxxxxxxxxxx_X

When they stepped out of the shadows Phil almost had a heart attack. He certainly was used with the Nightmare that rode on the halls of the workshop, used with the Nightmare King that spawned every so often on the shadows, and to see Jack storming in the place, the wind carrying him and messing all the way over.

But he definitely wasn't ready to see them all at the same time, coming from the darkest shadow, the presence of fear powerfully charged and temperatures falling, without even commenting the fact they both were covered on blood.

"Hey Phill! Call down furry man, I don't want you to explode!" Jack said and Pitch tightened the blanket around himself, it covered most of him, but it still left one leg exposed from the knee down, not to mention his neck and collarbone were visible, together with his arms.

He should have dressed himself first, yet he wanted Jack to be on the workshop, it would be safer than his Lair, maybe some fire spirits found their fellow's corpses, they would be after Jack.

Phill seemed to seek air more than understanding, so Jack's words fell on deaf ears, as he continued to wave his arms madly, grunting on yeti language things Pitch couldn't really define. Yet, the fear on the creature's mind he could easily read. He didn't trust Pitch very much, and his mind was simply scared, so no great fear lived on him, he was simply surprised, and the apparition of them three at them same time was interpreted as sight of apocalypse by the yeti.

"Phill, _vat's_ going on?" He heard the Russian before actually seeing him. Phil waved and pointed at their direction, and Jack simply rolled his eyes. Gehenna hummed calmly as she waited on the darkest corner, she wanted to be nearby if anything happened, and Pitch simply thanked she moved away, she could scare Phill even more.

North came from one of the corridors to the globe room, and Jack waved excitedly at the bigger man. Pitch's heart lightened, he was so sure he would lose control last night, he was so sure he would never see North anymore, any of the Guardians. He wouldn't say it loud, but he cared for the Russian and the winter spirit so largely, and simply seeing the man again made him forget about anything really.

"Pitch? Jack? What happened, why are you two covered in blood?" He asked worriedly like some sort of father as he moved to search for any wounds on them. When he looked at him though, he could see him freezing, his eyes darkening as he studied him. Oh the fact he was naked finally sink in. "Pitch, why are you naked?"

The world became so silly then! He could see Jack trying to come up with an excuse, and Pitch could see he didn't want to hear what Jack was coming with. Instead, Pitch simply sighed and warped the blanket a bit more, it was an uncomfortable question and the fact he looked completely guilty and more scared than intimidating wasn't of any help. If he had his tail, it certainly would be under his legs.

"Not naked, he have a blanket." Jack came up wisely, and Pitch wanted to hit his head on the wall, of course, that was certainly helpful. North moved closer and Pitch swallowed hard, he knew his whole face, arms and chest were full of dried blood, of course.

There was still flesh on his teeth, probably. Wherever on the werewolf become dirty with blood, it would be on his body, the de-transformation didn't made blood disappear, and certainly didn't made his clothes be back again.

"You are wounded, any of you are wounded? What happened, start talking Frost!" North said, as he moved to grab one arm of Pitch, they were full of blood, could be a wound under, there was no way of telling.

He tried his best not to blush as North ran a inspection him, his hands cupping his face so he could look at his neck and collarbone. The Nightmare King knew if North moved him much more, his blanket would fall easily, and he didn't wanted to be naked there.

"No, we are fine, the blood isn't ours." Jack said and was when one connected with two and made three. Pitch wanted the strength and the freedom to be able to move from the man's grasp on his waist and arm, but he could not. North glared inside Pitch's mind, and Pitch could feel his eyes giving away how much he was hiding.

"I might have killed someone close to Jack…" Pitch said, and Jack understood and went together. He was awful to make lies or to properly hide them, but Jack was shameless enough to strongly try, and it would be enough.

Pitch wasn't very worried though, he almost smiled at the moment. He was being cared of, not being shoved away like the monster he was. Even if it was all a lie... he wanted to keep up in this lie, it was better than nothing.

"It was self-defense though, he wanted to kill me just because I was a winter spirit and I ruined his plans on delaying the winter on Burgess!" Jack said in his defense, and Pitch wasn't sure if he liked or disapproved the fact Jack was lying and was good at it. North looked at him and then back to Pitch, repeating the motion some times, and Pitch could see the gears working on his mind.

"To my office, now. Both of you." North said in a demanding tune he had never heard the man using. He wanted he wasn't on a blanket, for the hair on the back of his head got up. It was some sort of dangerous snarl, harmless once it's on his good side, yet a powerful one.

He hadn't changed from the bandit leader of before, Pitch mused. He was still fearless, still powerful and strong. Still a bit intimidating if he didn't knew the man. The snarl though, was of a caring man.

He followed Jack quietly and their exchange of glances was almost like telepathy. Jack was almost screaming at him saying he knew not what to do, almost in panic, while Pitch soothed him down, said to follow the flux and happen whatever that happen, don't mutter a thing about Pitch's ability. This last fact made him upset, and not as calm as he wanted to be. North gaze wasn't doing any better.

He wanted his clothes, he groaned to himself. The cold on the Workshop was diminished of course, warmers filled the place, fireplaces were at arm's reach, but it was still cold to be on a blanket of... cotton? It was dense so not one would see through, but was thin. He wasn't sure from where he got it in the first place, he woke up with it around it already. He needed his clothes badly.

"So, who want to tell me the truth? Whose blood is this?" North asked, and his eyes were insistent. It was strange, made him uncomfortable to feel the man's gaze like that, and was like if he could see him bare. Maybe he could, he was almost naked anyway.

"There was no lie, the blood is from a fire spirit, he wanted to kill Jack and me. We tried to evade a fight, but it was him or us. We couldn't leave, he would try to harm Jack's friends or something of the sort. I'm not proud of it, but don't regret it neither." Pitch said calmly, as he crossed his legs on the chair, covering them off course, he wasn't some sort of survivor of a cataclysm to walk showing his flesh like if he forgot of ever decency... it was disgusting to say the least.

"And a single man would have this quantity of blood?" North asked, and Pitch meet a dead end. He could go away and be believed as a normal person, or he could get away and seems a bit more... bestial.

He weighted his options, unconsciously shrugging under the burning gaze of the Santa Claus. He looked to North and his eyes said everything. Tell it, please. I won't get angry, I just want to help.

"Yes, he would bleed this much if he wasn't killed with a weapon. I didn't want... he was too close for a scythe or a bow, my fighting skills aren't for that proximity. So I bite him." He said, his eyes low, and he simply waited for the killing blow. Here was when one should add the titles of assassin and monster being yelled at him.

"You killed this guy with your teeth?" North asked, and Pitch couldn't bring himself to answer. It could work, or it would but make himself a fool. What intrigued him though was the fact that in a way or another, he was putting himself as a monster. He couldn't bring himself to stare at North, but looking to a side he could see Jack, who was worried to the point of becoming blue. When North sighed though, he rose his eyes.

"Jack, go wash yourself okay? Give Neil your clothes so he can wash them properly, and don't touch anything while at it." North said, and he didn't need to be told twice. Before he ran out of the place though, Jack sent an apologizing look, which Pitch answered with one of his one. One that said to Jack to free himself from any sort of guilt, happen whatever that happened, it wouldn't be his fault.

He looked at North and the Russian looked back. His eyes were much less intimidating now, he seemed just worried, deeply and truly worried. Pitch didn't feel guilty for killing, torturing, or all the things he did on the dark ages. He felt guilty for lying when North was sincerely, truly worried. North looked at him, before moving closer and kneeling to his height. Pitch lowered his gaze, the chair he was on was comfortable, but the time took away any comfort he would have.

"Pitch, you got close of the truth, I saw it. Why don't you simply tell me what it was? I am worried, I just want to help you. Please." North said, and he couldn't help but to swallow hard. He barely survived the affront with Jack, how make it with North, who was far more different than him? A squeeze on his knee though made him raise his eyes.

"Wasn't only one, was it?" He asked, simply and smooth. Pitch could feel the softness of his tune like a caress on the cheek. It was some sort of inborn ability of his, certainly. He stared at the wall, not able to answer, and not able to move away. If he just left, how could he return?

"You did something, something bad. But you told Jack because he saw it, isn't it?" North said and Pitch's heart became a war drum, beating so hard that it almost made him shake with the strength. He was connecting facts, he didn't wanted to be discovered, but North was smart and could unbury anything from him. His eyes were golden again, but what could he bide in this state?

"What you did to them Pitch? You... come on, can't be that bad, and even if it is, I promise I won't judge." He said and Pitch shook his face. The Russian was careful, for pity's sake, how was he supposed to hold the truth like that. His lips curled to hiss, but a thumb silenced it, the most foolish thing one would do, he could simply bite North's finger off.

But he wouldn't, and God damn him, he knew he couldn't, North too knew he wouldn't. He was defenseless and in distress.

"You ate someone? You raped someone? Torture? If it's any of those, that's okay Pitch, I forgive you-" North was interrupted, as lean thin fingers were pressed against his lips, to keep him from talking. When his eyes meet Pitch's, they could see the water on them. It hurt Pitch more than any other thing in the world, him forgiving him for something he didn't even know what it was.

"Don't. Y-you know noth-thing... don't forgive-e... Please don't..." He sobbed, he wasn't worthy of him, of anything of the sort, he was so dirty, so unworthy! His eyes were half lidded, he didn't wanted to cry, but he didn't want to stand cold and dead, he wanted North to let this go, for his own survival. He was pleading.

"No. You're the one who should hear. Pitch, I forgive you for doing everything you have done, being that whatever it may be. I don't want to know anymore Pitch what you did. I am satisfied by forgiving you." He said, and Pitch could take that no more. He tried to struggle, but he was weak against North. He exhaled painfully, as North rested his forehead on his. His tears were running freely, and Pitch cursed him for his weakness. Not his physical, but of his heart.

"I'm sorry... for not being worthy... for being a beast..." Pitch cried lowly, his fingers once pushed North far, but now they only held on the red coat, held him closer, so he would hear before he moved away. North's breath was warm on his cheek, his forehead against his couldn't give him a proper look from the man's reaction, but if he raised his eyes, he knew blue ones would be staring back. Not hard and not cruel, but soft and caring.

"If you're a beast... you're then the most beautiful beast I have ever seen _angel moi_." He muttered, and to that, he raised his eyes, setting his eclipse teary eyes to North's. The light on them was the most harming thing he ever felt.

When North moved closer Pitch had closed his eyes even before their lips met. He was warm, he was soft and was comforting, he was the promise of dusk on the end of a tiring sunny day. Pitch knew the feeling well.

He wasn't waiting for this twist of things, but he mused as much as his dizzy mind could, he couldn't have planned or thought of anything better. It was something, an gift, given to him by the heavens. He wasn't worthy, but he was an opportunist and wouldn't return this.

His nails dug on the fabric of the coat as he felt hands moving, pressing his thighs so North could get closer. He was once cold, North Pole was a cold place, but now he simply felt like if they were burning him alive. He felt nothing, his muscles seemed to be numb, but he yet felt an ache, he wouldn't stand lose this, would never let this go away.

"Nicholas..." He moaned softly, a very non Nightmare King way, yet he cared not. Here he wasn't the Nightmare King, here he was a beast on redemption. The hardest, most uneasy redemption that ever existed, but redemption. He wanted to be worthy for Jack, to keep his Nightmares safe, and now for this. He could deal with whatever that the world came up against him.

"Shh sweetheart, it's okay... everything is and will be okay." North said, and it felt like the most trustworthy promise in the world. He nodded numbly, and he could hear North chuckle a bit, a small smile in his lips.

He knew not when he was raised from his chair, but suddenly he was on his feet. North's hands kept him from being up from his own, he held him with one hand at the small of his back, his fingers making small patterns on the flesh under the fabric, the other then on the back of his neck.

Pitch flushed, his skin probably getting on a darker shade of grey as North planted small kisses on lips, on his cheek and jawline, all the way to the slightly pointed ears. It was warm, the skin he touched seemed to burn, the chest against him was far the most warm place he could ever want to be. He gasped when it slowed down to the point of ending, and he was again on his feet, keeping himself up by his own. The hand though, never left his back.

"I really like you my dear, but go take a shower please? You taste of blood." He muttered and Pitch nodded, faintly, as the hands slowly released him, and he moved on the direction of the darkest corner on the room.

He didn't left though, without resting a small kiss on the man's cheek of course.

**Yeah, show me now all your love, all your hate and all your crushed feelings! I will grant you a flower if you do so. For now, good night!**

**Ciao!**


	9. C9 - Exile

**Yeah, I'm back. The lack of chapters of the last two weeks has a reason, the last chapter two reviews. I mean, I was kinda sad, and sick, so I decided to wait a bit more before posting it. I hope no one hanged yourself because of that! :D**

**The next chapter is kind of sad, boring and stuff… so worry not, if you get bored and jump it to the next, you won't be losing anything of the plot neither the romance or stuff. I made sure of that. This chapter is a disappointment for my kind, but I couldn't change it. Believe me, I tried.**

**PandaAttack2109: **Awn… you make my heart melts! You're so kind to me, I love you, thank you for the support and I hope you don't hate me after this chapter here. As for the dog which North can't say no, I will explore the idea on the future. ;)

**Song: **Lullaby by Lorenna McKennitt. / Fill my Heart by Two Steps from Hell.

**Disclaimer: **Have nothing, only my doors locked and windows barred, making my brain seems scarred…

**Chapter 9 – Exile**

North of the New Zealand, where places weren't filled of snow by this time of the year yet, but the green still lived and the rains still were wet and cold, but not unbearable. The green still filled the places, as did the orange from the fall, since most of the plants lost their leaves, while the pines still were full. Waiting to the snow, he would say.

The skies were shiny, for on this part there wasn't any cities nearby, only the moon and the stars to shine on the night. Not that could do much though, since thunders worked on the highs and clouds filled the air. The cold was arriving, yet this rain was calming, even the thunders were soft on his ears. How could places on this world be still beautiful like that, he never knew, but he was grateful it was.

His fingers ran through strings, the thing on places like that was that they weren't different from ages ago. The wild still ran peacefully, the peace was still simply, and fate uncertain, at the same quantity it was. He could half lid his eyes and on that places, he could be whenever he wanted, he could be on his first day, hands filled with blood, eyes full of wonder and decision. He could be on the day he was freed, returning from his undead state to his conscience again, a day filled with joy, on a forest very much like this one.

He could be on the dark ages, knowing people not far shivered at the whisper of Pitch Black, knowing him as the owner of everything that harmed them, fearing him, and while he feared nothing. Now though, he was in peace, and the strings moved in agreement.

It was ages since he had a time like that to himself, no main plots to think, and no pride to make him start one. No heart on one piece to do that, no mind on the war to do so. He was in peace, a sad, crying peace. He didn't shed tears, but the sadness wasn't bad, the sadness was for the peace itself. He was happy, and that was so light and filling he had no other choice than relax and let his body adapt to the closer feeling peace could give. A light, reasonless sadness.

He was sleepy, and at the same time so awake. The thunders and the forest entered his lungs with its scent, it was dark but it had light. He had the full view of that theater from inside the small cave he was in, only to shield himself from the rain. He wanted to go out, to bath himself on that feeling, alone, there was no one to say how full of wonder his heart was, of imaginations and dreams. Not the Guardians' work though, a work of his own, a thing that kept them living, but not a thing they necessarily created.

The rain seemed to wash away any hurry, and his heart longed to live on this forever. A song was calm and a bit muffled under the sound of the rain and thunders, there wasn't bugs nearby, only the magical appeal of the peace and nature. He craved for being one with this peace, to be forever on this illusion of satisfaction he so loved. He wasn't only hate and pain, he was also patience, he was loneliness.

His fingers moved the strings of a lute, one he had since the start of times, one he had since the dark ages and he stored it for times like those. It bought him hope, more than spring or Easter or something of the sort, it bought him the virtue of patience. He could feel the wind, as it walked in synchrony with the rain and the trees. He could feel it all. That was the good thing of never being a human at all. This was the gift. Gift of being one with the beauty of the world.

It didn't mattered his body, his condition, his heart, his mind, or even his soul, he now lived unliving, he was connected to the other planes of the world in a way none of the Guardians or spirits could even experience. He was a color, a shade, and now he once who had a body, was released, painting the whole frame with himself. He couldn't tell the difference between the real and what not. It was a priceless gift.

'I thought I was the only who knew this place.' Pitch heard but that, just like the song he played, was muffled by the rain and thunders, so it never startled him. Maybe because it wasn't a sound, he felt this as well, as if it was one of the many violins who played the song of the living theater he watched and felt. Pitch could also see the Guardian wondering why he was...like he was now. He wasn't sure how he looked, but he was sure he was closer to an ethereal existence than physical.

He shook his head slowly, and exhaled soundlessly. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the frame, to interrupt the theater. The theater of life, the theater of existence. It was the energy physical form. He hummed along with the song he played, the lyrics he couldn't tell anymore, but the rhythm of them he repeated. A thunder ringed on the skies and he raised his eyes to see it, see its beauty, a beauty so far from his, like if he had a beauty at all.

He was like a black and white painting, which somehow fled from his own painting to watch this colorful one. He dared not to come by and taint the colorful frame, that even with darker tunes inside, it only gave more life to it, deepness, and all those who said darkness didn't held beauty, they would have to swallow their tongues. From the stone he was sitting on, he could see the Guardian looking back at him, golden eyes staring softly at him. Sanderson. No one else would have the patience and soul to be here, living this just like him.

'You're stained, you know. There is some dark marks on you.' He asked, and Pitch nodded once more. So, there was what it did to him. He never entered on ethereal form by his own desire, he did it when he was taken down, with a dagger on the heart, but it wasn't his will, it was a security measure. Now though, he wondered if he could do something of the sort, not sleep for ages, but free himself from his body.

He earned for the feeling of freeing it again, it was the best thing he ever felt in his life, he felt nothing, yet, he felt it all. If someone breathed, he could feel the breath touching him even if he was meters far. He could feel heartbeats like if chests and wrists were pressed against another, he could taste emotions, he could feel them all, he could touch sound while it traveled.

It was the most beautiful thing he ever felt, and this moment was the closest of it he could find. Sanderson surely never felt it, he was a dream weaver, so he wasn't human or a creature before. Pitch was neither, his plane of existence was another.

He didn't move as Sanderson sat down on his legs, using them to put his back on, as one arm he warped around his left leg. For a moment he was surprised, but here, not even an apocalypse could startle him.

Their sands annulled each other, and for once he wasn't worried. He simply relaxed once more. He exhaled, and wasn't waiting for a cloud of grey smoke to go out. It wasn't smoke, it was closer to ashes, but of sand. Ages passed, or five minutes, but the storm didn't, Pitch could tell.

The stars moved, the sky too changed, hours had gone by, but the storm was of the kind of not ending until the morning. Sanderson moved not the entire moment, but he was awake, he was contemplating the scene just like him. He cared not what happened, he was in some sort of drugged, hypnotic state. An good hypnotic state.

Time flowed eternally, and on the back of his mind he sang, creatures of darkness lurked on these shadows behind him, but none came to light. They simply assured if their leader was fine, close to the Guardians who once harmed him. Pitch couldn't tell when or how came morning, but once it did. And the night wasn't expend in vain to him.

"Sanderson." He called, shooing the smaller sand spirit, and the golden little man shrugged on his sleep, hugging his leg closer as he didn't even budged. "Sanderson, wake up."

It was slightly disturbing to see how the golden man was a heavy sleeper. Over his head, Pitch could see a figure, many people singing and dancing, and he couldn't yet shake the pride for the fact he inspired a good dream. For a figure like him, it would be more comprehensive if he had inspired a Nightmare, but yet, no, his song had inspired good dreams.

He wasn't sure if he should feel offended, or fine. He decided for the last, since he didn't hoped to scare someone, for his song was peaceful and only was meant to bring himself patience and hope, since he wasn't blessed by the Guardian of Hope like the others.

If he wanted hope, he should find it by his own. He was always a lover of fine pleasures, there wasn't how deny that. Wine, caffeine, a warm fireplace, music, a good book, rain in a cold night and a warm blanket. It was small pleasures, since he wasn't permitted none other like a family or friends, those he could have.

It bought him to think why he came on this small sanctuary away from time in the first place. He was upset, the turning, the shape shifting, the rage, pain, and then forgiveness. Only to go to North's Pole and pass for everything again. Rage, pain, and forgiveness. And a kiss. Things were a mess on his mind already, the last simply made it become mayhem and he decided he should think, have some good air. His lair was good for those things as well, but he needed something more neutral, timeless, alone.

Looking back, he could see further on the cave his things. He had been for four days here now, it was expected to some Guardian search for him. The fact it wasn't Bunnymund or North made him relax more. The first one never liked him in the first place, and the last made him upset. Not a totally bad kind of upset, but still an uncomfortable one. He needed time.

With magic he lifted Sanderson, not using his sand so he wouldn't disturb his sleep and dreams, and laid him on the small camping bed roll, inside the tent and covered the smaller man as well, the morning was a cold one and completely wonderful. Golden rays of the sun bathed the wet figure of the forest, the clouds were few, and everything seemed golden, green or in some shade of it.

Not far he could see a butterfly and he just noticed how he had ignored the other colors. The morning was blue as well, was purple of the flowers, yellow of some leaves, the place was a canvas with all the existent colors. If he paid attention he could see grey and black as well.

If he was a color, he would be one of them. Seeing them even now made him feel necessary, on the frame as well, for if there weren't that small bits of grey and black, the colors would mix, would hold no frame and difference on the shades. He was necessary, but no one would say how beautiful the shade of grey it was. No. Even without praise, the grey and black were still there, and thanks to them, the picture was beautiful as it was. Thank to them the world was beautiful, thanks to them there was light.

A nuzzle tugged on his arm and he didn't needed to look to know who it was. He was alone, yet, he never gave up. He mused what really kept him fighting. The creature with the head under his arms made him remember what. Nightmares existed before he even gave them form, it was before mankind when he picked fear and tainted the golden sand, a magic he almost invented, for there wasn't anyone like him before. He was father of them, Nightmares. He was the Nightmare King.

They were some part of him, and yet they were themselves alone, each one had the soul of the dream they used to be, they had conscience, they had needs and they had desires. They were sprites, just like any other. Not only the Man in the Moon could make manifestations get forms. Now they were all back again, new, and yet old.

They were born just on the last months, yet they were Nightmares, and people had Nightmares more than once, Nightmares alike the ones one had ages ago. So they were the same, just newer. More impatient, like children.

He was used of it though, he never argued about that. The fact he was able to bring them back made him smile even under torture. He was alone, yes, but not completely. They were from his limbs and power, so he technically was with parts of himself, that had grown up by their own. He couldn't tell if they were him, or not. They simply were, and now he was grate for that.

The Nightmares could change their forms just like Fearlings, yet their basis were the mare body, horses of darkness, running free. Why horses? He always liked them, they were certainly his favorite animal. Noble and fair, strong but their nuzzles were far more sensible than human's fingers or tongue.

There was grace and power on a horse's gallop, and no chess game would be full without the horses on them, their unique movement pattern admitted the most intelligent and cunning attack. A movement precise and straight to victory.

Yet when a voice joined the song he played, he cared not. They were free, and he loved them with whatever body they wanted to take. He liked them far more than the Fearlings, whom obeyed him just as loyally, but were cold. With them, certainly he was alone. But he was a King and he didn't had the right of favoring one and marginalizing another. Only by their own merit. But not treated as special. Gehenna had done it, she had deserved it, she fed him and kept him alive when any Fearling would do. She dragged an enemy inside his lair to make it help him.

Gehenna meant hell, for Nightmares were peaceful and sweet, but only with him. He knew that well. His Nightmares had names, given by him or by themselves, and Gehenna he had choose by himself. That was mainly because she was fiery, more than any other he had personally lived with, and yet, quiet and elegant. Hell was supposed to be an awful place of fire and torture, but when Pitch stopped to think, he couldn't shake the idea of on the middle of it, a black castle of the sharpest and intricate architecture.

She was his idea of hell, so Gehenna was fitting. Little did he knew in those times she would be the one to save him, to give up fire and pride to allow an stranger in the black halls, to save her ill king. No one other would have done it. He was grateful for that, and now stopping to think about this, he shouldn't be here, expending his time anymore. Yet he only had an idea of what to do.

Would he return to North Pole? He certainly didn't want to shove North off, for he wouldn't lie he had liked the kiss, but his heart seemed to be messing with all his security. He looked at the side, and golden eyes meet golden eyes. And they weren't Sanderson's. She nodded softly, but not stopping her lullaby, and he simply wondered what to do. She knew of it already, and approved whatever he did.

Before he knew, she suddenly stopped, and moved to whisper on his ear. "Fill my heart." She muttered, and he wondered what she meant with it, until it sank in. She was telling him one song. He nodded and the bard disappeared, and others instruments floated on the cave. With a flick of wrists, they started their song without him.

He watched as the Nightmare woman got up and called him, pulling him by his wrist so he would stand in front of the cave with her. The wind moved a bit there, and he had to close his eyes a bit as he adapted to it. Her long hair moved as well, and behind him a whole orchestra played. While people had music player, he had his own orchestra, each instrument playing themselves with perfection, and he didn't need anything more. Just one to sing for him.

Her voice he heard it from ages, but this the only time he heard one of his Nightmares sing. They had hearts and while some didn't care about music, Gehenna seemed to like. He felt bad for never asking, for the thought never ran on his head. When he played something, it was common for some Nightmares or Fearlings to come by, since music sometimes held fear as well as other feelings, but he never asked if one of them actually liked music.

He didn't need any Guardian of Hope, he had his own means. The song was peaceful, yet romantic and hopeful. It was the sort of pure romance people so dreamed of, he did not have the mind for this, and yet, sometimes he needed something foolish to hold on, to busy his mind. And something serious as well. When the song came to an end, an end he didn't want to come for he could simply hear forever, he knew what he should do.

To hell with hope, dogmas and fear, to hell with worries and all that. He was full of it already. He felt an arm on his shoulder and golden eyes nodded again, as a small kiss was placed on his cheek, and the Nightmare vanished.

She had many things to do. Her touch was cold, but the kiss was warm, not asking nothing, simply blessing. He was sure of only few things, but one of them was that he wouldn't stand here mourning anymore, it was great but it was enough.

The second thing was that he wouldn't hide under his bed anymore, it was safe, he liked safety yes, but nothing was gained without risks. He smiled to himself, a large, sincere smile, which he was sure he only made two times on his life as Nightmare King. Leaving a note, he stepped into shadows and vanished.

He had a colorful world before him, a world that gave him pain, a world that gave him insecurity. Yet, it was a world that needed grey and black, so the colors would shine. He didn't care if he didn't received praise, he was one to hear but chose what to absorb. He had a redemption to work on, an uneasy, hard and unspoken redemption, but he had one, he knew it, and it wasn't the moon who told him, or his monstrous side, and wasn't Gehenna neither.

It was himself. He never needed anyone before, why would he need someone to tell him this as well? Darkness was independent, that he knew since he opened his eyes for the first time. The time to be a creature of darkness was over, the time to lurk in the shadows and fear light, like a demon fear holy water, had ended.

The time to become darkness, to go under light and frame it with black ink, make patterns and let him be freed had come. He had exiled himself, he mused. Well, no more.

Maybe it was time to embrace light, desire and more importantly ignore his mind, for his mind was doing him no good. Time to embrace redemption. And also time to embrace idiocy, for the idiots lived and loved better.

**So, here it is! If you got bored, depressed, messed up with feelings or simply gave up and jumped to here, worry not, you lost nothing important to the story. If you actually read it, show me your hate! REVIEW DAMNIT OR I WILL POST THE NEXT CHAPTER ONLY ON 15 DAYS.**

**Ciao.**


	10. C10 - Coffee

**I'm back, seems like you people came with the great idea of reviewing. For that I am grateful. I have until chapter 12 done so I think I should quit sleeping and writing it all again, so I can keep the frequency of chapters. Damn. I like sleeping.**

**By the way it's not for that why you came here for, is it? Of course not. Since last chapter's failure, I decided to make something more dynamic, less feels and more fun to me! So yeah, it is stupid as hell. Hahahaha! Now I wonder where PandaAttack is…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it, but if I did, half of the characters would be strippers. Liar's idea, which I don't own as well.**

**Chapter 10 – Coffee**

"Gehenna really! It has been a week already, stop shadowing me." Jack muttered, and North couldn't help but to smile. The Nightmare wasn't on a form any bigger than a cat, still a horse but kind of longer and less formed. Jack once told him that was the original forms of the Nightmares, when the dreams became tainted, they were that side and like that, and then they grew with their power and became full black-sand mares.

The response Jack got with that was a soft but still creepy whine from the creature, as it moved to hide on Jack's hood just behind his neck, hiding from the lights on the Globe Room and enjoying the coldness of the winter. North had learned Nightmares enjoyed the coldness as much as they liked heat and darkness, to them every temperature was good enough to them if they were accentuated, extremes.

It never ended to amuse North, really. The creatures certainly understood Pitch's mind and needs far more than he ever would, they knew how to deal with Jack, they knew how to keep a fair distance from the dream weaver, not showing their teeth to Tooth in anyway neither killing Bunny when he made nasty remarks about their King on to anyone when they talked about Pitch. This one specifically, called Gehenna, was the one who knew most probably, and simply was whenever Pitch or Jack was.

North never understood, but Jack just like Pitch could recognize that Nightmare from the others. To him though, they were just the same, if they were all together, North could never tell the difference besides a bit of their sizes.

The winter spirit sighed contently as he embraced the sensation of touching a Nightmare, North felt it once and never wanted to feel it again, it was a wake Nightmare, like daydreaming but a Nightmare and far stronger than any lucid dream, it was like a crisis of a phobia.

Jack though, never seemed affected by that. Maybe was a spell, yet Jack assured it wasn't, but Jack seemed to drawn nothing from the Nightmare's natural ability, like fire's when touched. The snow bringer said to him it was different, he could go numb and at the same time more alert, it made his senses flare on a way they even were clouded.

It was like too much action and reception that suddenly he couldn't even feel pain. It was great for playing and studying his surroundings. The winter spirit mentioned something about this being how Pitch actually lived, 25 hours per day, and North simply wondered how it was possible.

The memory of Pitch made his heart ache somewhat soft but painfully. He sighed silently, covering it with some sort of fake smile. Pitch had vanished for good four days now, and he couldn't help but feeling guilty. If he hadn't simply kissed the Boogeyman, he was sure he would have returned by now.

He was already fine from whatever that happened on the woods of Burgess, he was far from him, and it was only his fault and no one's else. If he could return on the time and make himself stop...

North talked with one of his yetis, Jonathan, as he made sure the ranks were fine and he would be able to finish everything before even Christmas. Of course there were children who sent letters just a week before, but yet he wanted to be sure the others would be on time. He waved as he talked to the yetis, Tooth already said how it was funny when he did that, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He suddenly stopped though, when the hair on his neck got up.

He knew not when he started to feel for the Boogeyman, but he was sure like he was that sun dawn every day . He thought it was all because he cared, because he somehow felt just like when he got Jack on his workshop, welcoming him much like a son. He could feel the need of warmth, he could feel the need of soft words and caring actions. But Jack was like a son to him, would forever be, but when he saw the beauty and flaw that was the Nightmare King though, he fell.

It was idiotic how he never connected those feelings before. When he fought the Nightmare King, he always felt something on his belly, running like static on his spine, making him upset and nervous.

He always fought Pitch, but fought like a soldier, not sure what was fighting, but instead following orders and defending those he loved. Never ran on his mind that maybe Pitch had problems as well, for when they fought, he seemed good and almost immortal. Now though, North could easily spot the act, see that the truth wasn't quite like that.

The static ran on his spine again, like it used to do in those years now long gone. There was magic on the air, an ancient creepy magic, like the dust or the pressure released by a volcano, he could feel how old that pressure and air was, he could feel how powerful and omnipresent it was.

It was fear, but not simple fear, for like a tree, fear was many things and had branches. Safety only existed with the fear, more importantly for the lack of it at the moment, and concentration of it on the others.

Loneliness was the fear of not having anything or anyone to fear for, rage was the strength to ignore it, courage was the heart to do it, arrogance was the certainty that it wasn't enough to bring one down, care was the action of making it fade from another being whatever it cost.

Pitch had all those traits and more, he simply could have come before fear even did. And now, the essence raw and mystical of fear ran on his veins, mixing with his blood and causing him to shudder when he felt the presence.

_"Don't want to interrupt, so just go on..."_ It whispered on his ear, and that voice he could understand from the back of his skull to his toes. He fought the urge of simply turning on his heels, sure he would find the Nightmare King there, yet was like if his body froze over. He didn't want to turn around though, for he feared that the Boogeyman wasn't there at all. He stared at Jack and the boy had a wide grin on his mouth. He didn't know how, but he was sure the boy did know what happened, and by the look, he knew exactly what the shadows spoke.

The Nightmare raised its head from the winter spirit's hood and stared at the walls, eager to move and meet with the King. "Pitch!" The winter spirit cheered at a wall and for a moment North wondered if the boy was getting mad.

Then was when North noticed the shadow on the wall that didn't belonged to none of the yetis, spirit or elves on the workshop. A shadow without something doing it. On it, a smile crept and glowed silver, as did eyes.

"Not keen on keeping things clouded, are you Jack?" He heard it and the winter spirit simply shook his head, a wide silly smile on his lips as the Nightmare put its front pawns on the snow bringer's shoulder, eager to touch the shadow on the wall. Was when it moved. Getting from 2D to 3D the shadows took form and certain Nightmare King appeared, a cocky smile on his lips, but yet endlessly beautiful as he ever was.

"Nope. Your little spy missed you know it?" Jack said and Pitch smiled as the Nightmare flew from his hood to snake on the man's body, losing an specific form to simply warp around him like if it was shadows, a thing he had already seen Pitch doing, moving his shadows like if they had their own will, as they embraced and whirled slow and dangerously around the dark spirit, touching him like some sort of intimate lover or himself.

Pitch simply smirked to the shadowy creature. North bite the corner of his lips, that was definitely torture to watch the shadows warp and touch the Nightmare Kind like a scarf of black silk, touching what he wanted to touch so much.

"Of course she did, so did I. What I missed while out?" He asked and the winter spirit shrugged. Without looking, Pitch stepped to the side so a few yetis could walk past him, carrying boxes and without having to ask to him to move away. Few elves were giggling, shivering and pointing at the Boogeyman at one corner, yet it was already common and none of them bothered to even glance.

"The usual, Bunny being an ass is one of them. And Gehenna, she has been following me just like you probably asked. I had to push her out so I could take simple bath." He said and Nightmare whined long and creepily, before poking at Pitch's long elegant neck. He caressed the creature softly, answering the creature lowly on a way he could not understand more than some mumbles.

"She brings honor to her name, and makes me proud. Do not be angry at her for that though, I couldn't leave you out of my sight with the danger off more fire spirits returning." Pitch answered calmly, and that bought a smile on the winter spirit's lips. North softened at that, Pitch would never say that loud, but he cared for the winter spirit as much as did North, Sandy, Tooth and Bunny together.

"I'm just glad you're back." North muttered with a warm smile, and that got the attention of the winter spirit. Jack smiled mischievously and tugged the sleeve of the Nightmare King like some sort of really annoying child. "Oh, and North missed you as well. He was mourning just like if you died."

North rose an eyebrow to that and the dark spirit sighed silently, his face flushing to a darker tune of grey before he finally was able to contain it again. When Pitch noticed the glance the Russian sent him though, that control simply slipped out of his fingers like water. North chuckled slightly, there was fun on seeing Pitch trying to keep his facade, there was no need of that, yet the Nightmare King could never stand being opened and investigated like some sort of book.

"Okay..." Jack said, looking at them both with his intelligence and ability to read people on the work. "There is something here I can't put my finger on, so I will just ask. What is going on?" He asked and Pitch somehow turned to face the wall, the face darker than before this statement.

"Nothing is going on." North said, but he couldn't hold the smug grin to creep on his face until he was laughing loudly. On the large Globe Room there was yetis and elves working and making their work, so it was natural none of them paid attention to them. But with that laughter, some glanced, but knew better than stop working to ask what was happening. Pitch stared to the floor like if it was the most awesome thing on the galaxy.

"Pitchhh! Come on, tell me! Tell me or I will just tell Tooth and I leave her to discover that, just like I did with Bunny." Jack said and the episode when Jack told the Fairy the Easter Bunny disagreed with brushing teeth everyday returned to his mind. He surely didn't want to be the next victim, he wouldn't wish that not even to his worst enemy. Neither to his most intimate friend. And both ended to be the same guy.

"I think I left a cake on the oven of my Lair, sorry Jack, this may be a tale for another day." Pitch said briefly before turning on heels and returning to the shadows he just came from. Jack yelped and dragged the Nightmare King back to the light, and if Pitch looked like a deer caught on headlights, it wasn't coincidence.

"You hate cakes! Come on Pitch!" The winter spirit complained as he dragged the Nightmare King back to the light, and when he was sure Pitch wouldn't disappear once he turned his back, he turned to North. "Come on North! I want to understand what I missed." The winter spirit pleaded and North stole a glance of the Boogeyman, who looked ready to shut everyone up with sand or his shadows.

"You missed nothing Jack, really. It's just a personal joke, when you're older we shall explain." North said and the winter spirit simply got blue in rage with that. Pitch shrugged, like if he had already tasted the rage of the beast that North had just unleashed.

"I'm three hundred years old for the Moon's sake! How older you want me to get? You know I can't physically age so if it's that what you're waiting, that time will never come!" Jack breathed and before Pitch could even evade the winter spirit already held his arm like some possessive girlfriend and glared daggers at the Toy maker. North could only smile and laugh, for he knew that Jack's anger was petty and soon he would be over it.

"Come on Pitch! Can you teach me some spells now?" He asked almost demanding the dark spirit to oblige with him. Pitch simply rolled his eyes and bended a bit. He moved to whisper on the winter spirit's ear, and after something that he said Jack's eyes widened, and he could see on the corner of the lips of the Boogeyman a sharp but sincere smile. Only before he whispered something again and Jack nodded quickly. North suddenly was death curious about what Pitch could have told the boy,

"Really!?" Jack suddenly asked and Pitch grinned somewhat darkly, an eclipse over the once silver irises, which now shined dangerously golden.

"Yes, now go." He said on a knowing look that made Jack's glare look almost devilish. The winter spirit nodded, before the black sand whirled around him and settled on him, hiding on every dark spot of his clothes, and once it was stabilized, Jack picked his staff and ran to the corridor.

The wind caught up with the spirit, and Jack started to fly, leaving dark blue sand behind him like if he was but a Nightmare himself, but this sand was different, it put down any barrier there once had between cold and darkness, and it strike on a single way, the sand leaving pieces of frost and darkness, an amusing scene.

There was a mischievous smile on Pitch's lips when he saw Jack leave, North was sure he could hear the Boogeyman's voice saying 'That's my boy' with a proudly tune only a father could have. An evil loving father, by the danger on every trace of his face, but a father still.

"What you said to him?" North asked with genuine interest and Pitch smiled arrogantly, crossing his arms while at that. North smiled even more, there was something on Pitch's natural coolness and arrogance that seemed to attract him more and more as days ran.

"I bribed him. Those newest generations, including his, are far more attracted to the unknown than others have ever been, attracted to cheats to change their lives for better." Pitch explained calmly, almost matter of fact. "I proposed to teach something I have been delaying for some time, but now I believe he will be able to earn if he listen to my warnings."

North nodded to that, Pitch was master of black magic and probably the best around the world, since he was into it far longer than any other spirit, yet he too knew very much about the white magic, and was the best teacher anyone could ever ask for. He was sure that if it wasn't Jack, he certainly wouldn't be teaching anyone, for he clearly hated many people and lacked patience towards them.

Except his frost smaller copy, Jack and Pitch were like long lost twins with a huge age difference. "What you're going to teach him?" North asked and Pitch shook his head, his half lidded eyes holding amusement as he placed a finger on his own lips.

"No no no, I promised I wouldn't say a thing. Sensei and pupil secrets." He said and North knew he wasn't able to drag anything else from the dark spirit, Pitch was stubborn in the same quantity as deadly and cold. And at the same time, gentle and warm.

"If you say so, I think I will just give up." North muttered, crossing his arms. He signed a paper a yeti called Raphael gave him and then he waved at the Boogeyman again. "Up to a coffee?"

The question seemed to get the Boogeyman out of his guard before the dark spirit simply nodded. There was something sparkling on those flawless golden irises, not distrust, but not sure too if he should drop his guard. North paid it no mind though, as said reaction was kind of normal of the man, and he simply leaded to his office.

Pitch walked awfully close, and at the same time, awfully distant to him. His overcoat always touched his shadow in some form, stepping inside it and walking perfectly matched with it, not a piece of his own shadows or his coat touched outside North's shadow. Looking back, he could see perfectly that Pitch had no shadow, but instead seemed to be rising from his.

He entered his office casually, and slipped a mug of hot coffee for both of them. He liked his with vodka, while he could see that Pitch liked it black and pure like himself in some sort of way. Coffee said much about people. "Thanks." The Boogeyman said calmly as North handed him his mug of coffee.

There was something on his long thin fingers warping around his mug that made North's lips dry, fingers so different from his, he was large, thick and brute, while Pitch was all thin, long and elegant. It was like comparing a bison to an English Pure Blood horse.

"Welcome." North answered with a smile, before letting himself drink a bit from the cup. Pitch was already drinking his and he watched intensely as the Boogeyman stopped. "So, Jack mentioned you missed me..."

North almost choked on his coffee with the awkward theme being bought from nowhere. "Da..." He answered being equally endless as the Nightmare King. The silence followed after that, thick enough to be cut with a dagger.

North looked as much as Pitch wasn't looking, he wanted the Nightmare King badly, he wanted to scream everything he wanted to put out, but yet, the fact Pitch had vanished for four days showed it wasn't a good idea. He didn't want the dark spirit far never ever again. The awkwardness followed.

Looking at Pitch was a torture, his thin lips straight on a line of concentration and discomfort made him want to kiss his worries away. The sharp nose at his ever first glance he was surprised at how comical it was. Hours after, he could understand how beautiful it really was, and since that day when he was a human, his idea never changed. Him knowning of his feelings or not. And only last week he was of them.

"You have a good coffee here you know... you buy from where?" Pitch asked casually, and North almost sighed loudly in relief. Something to break the ice, and yet, it was so obvious it didn't really helped. But he was giving it a try.

"Not really sure, I buy it from Northern spirits, and then put a bit of vodka on mine." North said softly, and he could see Pitch's lips curling on a smile. _"Russian"_, he could hear Pitch muter under his breath.

"Looks good, but I can tell you pure is better. I like the original flavor, intense per se. I used to buy from South America, theirs are strong and intense in the right levels." Pitch explained calmly, and North took the mental note of trying it once. He just didn't agree it could be better than his with vodka.

"Believe me, there is something about the ones from the Northern parts, they are strong but sweet too. Unless you're some madman who dislike sweets no one can't love it." North defended, and Pitch placed his mug on the table he was touching on, his hips brushed slightly the wood as he leaned just merely on it, but enough to attract North's attention.

"Nothing against sweet things, but without excess. There isn't nothing sweet on South America coffee, unless you put your own sugar on it of course. You can only put a bit, if you put too much it gets disgusting and it isn't coffee anymore, is waste." Pitch said, looking over the Toy maker with the awkwardness now long forgotten.

"Northern isn't that sweet, its strong and formed, I believe you would like it. With milk they say it is the best, but with vodka it gets magical." North stated prideful, putting his empty mug on the table as well.

Pitch rolled his eyes. "You never tasted mine, you can't say a thing until then. Its refined, it's pure and its dense, there is something else better on a coffee?"

North laughed at that. "You never tasted mine. I think the change would make you good. And I will try your South America coffee, you convinced me enough."

"Good, I look forward to trying your Russian way of drinking coffee. I wish I had stolen it before you drank everything." Pitch said with a light smile on his lips, a pure, dense and somewhat royal one on it. The idea stuck him before he could even think if it was a good one.

"You still can try." North muttered before he simply moved to the lips of the Boogeyman, slipping his callused hands to the table behind the Nightmare King. North felt the body under his stiffen in surprise, his mind fought, but soon if Pitch has any restriction, it was thrown away.

His lips parted slightly, allowing the invasion, and North was glad they did. He had tasted the softness of those lips, their unique flavor of strong and dense coffee, refined and somewhat royal, and he had to admit he wasn't fair when he judged it before. It was indeed the best coffee he had ever tasted.

He grunted softly on that mouth, touching the roof of his mouth and bringing the Boogeyman to hum in approval, he could feel long arms warping around his neck and pulling him closer, the tongue battled his, and he simply hated himself for not doing that never before on his life.

"So I guess this is an approval of everything we have done and permition for more." North asked and Pitch chuckled slightly, his eyes still half lidded and he simply refused to let North's neck go. Not that North was going anywhere, he was too happy there to go anywhere or allow the Boogeyman to go somewhere.

"Sane... yes. I look forward trying more of Russian coffee." The Nightmare King said with a far too devious wink, that it should be outlawed. Not that it would have stopped Pitch of course. North simply grinned, he still had soo much to discover from the Nightmare King, help him to return to a better and entire state.

This though, was nothing about redemption or for the world's safety. This was because North wanted the Boogeyman forever with him, to be his and his alone, for he was a jewel to behold and worship, he wanted him fine and well, for whatever path he wanted to take. He could just hope it would be the good one.

"The same for yours." North growled lowly, bringing the hair of the Boogeyman up in an alert state. He wondered really if he had all this influence over his beautiful dark spirit, but it was answered by the Nightmare that jumped out from the closest shadow, whining loudly and incomprehensibly.

The beast didn't even had ended its speech when it faltered, making North notice its multiple wounds, places where lacked the usual amount of sand they had and instead the sand was burning on multiple times. Fast as a bolt Pitch held the creature's head, it wasn't bigger than a big dog, and when the Nightmare King touched it, its wounds started to automatically heal.

When Pitch turned to face him though, his eyes were silver and not golden as they were five seconds before. Worry was on his eyes readable like if they were neon signs on Las Vegas. "They have ambushed Jack, the Fire spirits are on Burgess, they have him and the children. Gehenna is circling the are with the local troops, but they are aware the Nightmares have to keep Jack safe."

North's heart was tight with that. But Jack had been out not even half hour ago! He dismissed the guilt on his heart, he didn't have how to prevent it, it wasn't his fault. But after this exact second, if something else happened, it would be.

"I will call the others." North said and he would if a hand hadn't simply held on his red coat. He turned to face Pitch, and for a moment, he saw fear burning like a fire storm in those eyes, it was the same fear and shame they held on the day Pitch had done something to other fire spirits. He didn't want North to see it, if it were to happen again. It was easy to read him on that state.

He rose a hand and cupped the dark spirit's face, making those silver eyes lower in a shame he could never understand. He kissed him briefly, and he could feel the Nightmare King soften under the touch. He was broken, and he so desperately needed the comfort, but North couldn't waste any more time around. Even if it crushed his heart as well.

"I will call for the Guardians, worry not my love. They cannot win us all together, so if you want, stay. Wait here. I won't ask you that, neither ask you to go. But I won't stay here." He said and Pitch nodded softly, his heart still hurting like if it was dying, North could see, but valiantly he nodded.

"I will go ahead... keep on the shadows making sure they are safe. I will wait for you." Pitch said, and North suddenly couldn't smile. He was so happy and proud, he had never seen such courage in such hurt heart, yet he wanted Pitch to be safe and not be hurt anymore. He shook away his thoughts, he needed to leave.

"Da. Be careful, _moy korol'_." North muttered, before he kissed him one last time. His body was going to call the Guardians, but surely his heart was going to Burgess, to defend and cry for the children, for Jack, and also for Pitch. It was painful when the face slipped out of his fingers like water, diving into a mass of shadows which he couldn't distinct from one another.

He stormed out of his office, grabbing his snow globes and swords, he could send a message by the aurora, but he needed to be faster. He would teleport and tell everyone individually as fast as he could. He knew Pitch, he would wait but if any fire spirit hurt Jack, he would jump to the attack not mattering if it was a death sentence. Pitch was protective over his frost smaller self.

There was no time to lose now. He would save his fellow Guardian and would make sure his would be lover to return safe.

***Dodge stones and fire arrows* **

**I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! I will never do a crappy chapter like this one! I am so very sorry!**

**Or I may, if you don't review. Yes, you. Don't think I'm joking because I know you and I know you're reading it on your mobile and its lazy to type that, so late on the night while you're comfortable under the covers.**

**A review from you, is the world for me. So fucking do it.**


	11. C11 - Forest

**Yep. I forgot to post this on the last week. I'm stupid, I know. But on the bright side, it was really good, it gave me time to end up with the chapter 13, which was taking me forever and have far more than 7.000 words. It will be a record when I publish it. Now, enjoy the shortest of chapters!**

**PandaAttack2109: **Awn, I hope you're well honey, and it's okay, I was just a bit surprised to don't see you last chapter. As for fanfictions I totally agree, you can be an amazing writer, but an original – even if stupid – idea is essential. And for coffee, I got this from the stereotype of Russians drinking vodka all the time and put it on coffee as well. I had no idea if it would be edible at all, so I got my friend Jeremy to try that out. It is good but strong as hell. Or maybe we are just too weak to drinks.

**Disclaimer: I had a dream that I owned it. It was so good…**

**Chapter 11 – Forest**

When they arrived, the woods were filled with fire, smoke, and darkness. Above, the moon witnessed everything quietly, sadly, on its crescent form, and without being able to do a thing. North wasn't surprised.

The snow filled the forest floor, the season was starting, winter was arriving and snow was already there, filling the floor, leaves and grass like a soft blanket. A beautiful blanket that now held black and red tint.

Tint? North wished it was. The scent of blood was strong and devastating, not even when a bandit king he felt so much blood on his lungs as now. Fire danced on the trees, not burning many of them, but instead running through them, like if they ran or searched for things.

Looking closely, he could see it wasn't fireballs, but fire spirits flying, fire whirling around them and feeding on their powers. The one he was looking at though, was roughly thrown out of the air.

A creature picked it from the thin air and sent it directly to the floor on a neck breaking strength, and when it landed over the spirit, North could finally see what it was. The Nightmare raised its pawns and buried them on the spirit's head, killing it fast and horribly.

North knew that spirits could not die unless their head were cut off or severed just too badly, it would work too if the heart was taken out, if not, they would heal after some time, change shape on seconds and be like if nothing happened, but the pain would still exist.

The Nightmare released a keening sound before a Fearling appeared, crawling from the shadows like some sort of ghost, and diving to the attack as well. Yet, they weren't many and North could see by the fire that was long over the forest that there was far more spirits there.

His eyes widened though, when from the fire and the woods came a Nightmare and as if not enough, on its back no one less than Jack himself.

"Jack!" He yelled, but it was too late. The Nightmare almost ran over him before they noticed the Guardians standing shocked on the border of Jack's lake. The winter spirit seemed terrified, but his worry didn't disappear when he saw the Guardians. There was something wrong, North could spot.

"North! Ahead... Pitch is holding them! The children are safe... the Nightmares got them away..." Jack was nearly without oxygen as he yelled, his hands gripping on the black mane of the Nightmare for dear life, as he held his staff tightly, it was broken in five irregular pieces, all them he held under his left arm.

Was probably when North noticed the boy's wounds, there wasn't probably a member of him that didn't held a burn of any kind, there was flesh being shown, burned and bleeding, yet, he wasn't deeply injured.

"Jack!" Tooth yelled as she moved closer to the boy. "How could they do that to you?! Why Pitch didn't wait for us?!"

Jack frowned and gave a sigh. "If he waited any longer, I would be dead! Come! Now you all are here you can help him!" The winter spirit said, worry dipping from his mouth like water from a man that had just drowned. He gripped the mane dangerously thigh, and the Nightmare released a keen pitched screech, wanting to go aid its master.

"Jack, slow down, ya can't fight like that! Listen to reason and go to the Pole wait for us-"

"Like hell I will!" Bunny was interrupted harshly by Jack, and the frost spirit glared daggers at him like if he was some sort of traitor. "Pitch is out there spending the few power he still have to keep them away as the Nightmares get away with the children and you freaking tell me to stay away?! While I breathe I can still fight, and I am returning there right away, you guys following me or not! I just left thinking you all would be of help, but it seems like I'm the only one interested on helping!"

North smiled sadly at the courage of the boy. His boy was brave, even if it was useless and dangerous. He handed his hand to the boy, and cupped the frost spirit's burned cheek tenderly. "I'm going with you, Pitch certainly will need the help sooner or later, and his powers aren't completely back yet."

"That's right." Jack agreed with a smile and North nodded with one of his own. He wasn't letting his adopted 300 years old son go to battle alone, neither his once-enemy-now-crush fall in battle without him raising an arm to defend them. He jumped though, when a whip of golden sand hit the floor just few centimeters from him. Looking down, he stared at a really angry Sandman.

_'The fire spirits have retreated!'_ Sandy signed, pointing to the woods and North moved to look as well. On the other side of the lake he could sometimes see one spirit or another flying on the woods, flying from the core of the battle or running into, making their way around it or anything. Now though, there was no such thing, all had gone inside to the battle.

"They went to help fight Pitch! Come on boys! I'm not letting a friend of mine die today!" Toothiana said and Jack nodded just as certain as her. "Follow me! Lead us Gehenna!"

The Nightmare whined and ran, not an impossibly fast pace but one they could actually follow. Secrecy was thrown out of the window as they ran, Jack by all means trying to get his staff on a single piece on the way, but he couldn't do a thing.

North handed him a dagger, one of the many he had hidden, and they continued. The way was easy, just too easy, he could hear the fire and war screams, yells of pain and grows of beasts, but he couldn't see a thing, they were still far from where the fight was happening.

The forces were all concentrated on the middle of an opening on the woods, a circle where no tree was growing, a perfect place to a fight. But not a good one if you were in disadvantage. And Pitch was.

On the middle of the circle stood a black tree, made of spikes and pointing to the skies threateningly, almost roaring in defiance, it's branches growing and stretching, picking fire spirits in midair and trusting their hearts with the spikes. It did not reach the ones far away, it only killed when they got close enough. What was doing the main kills where a totally different thing.

Above it Pitch stood, his scythe changed to two blades with chains on its handle, there was no difference between his coat and the tree of darkness, so the feeling it gave was that it was but part of Pitch's coat.

Pitch roared as he evaded a fireball, one of many, and threw his blades on two different spirits, then pulling out from their flying bodies and spinning them. It was red with blood and fire, but North knew that magic sand was never destroyed and simply burned without harming itself.

It was madness, no one on Pitch's place would be able to fight so fiercely given the circumstances and disadvantages, yet there he was, each five seconds a fire spirit was hit with those blades, and if they got too far and into the woods, it was Nightmare bait.

There was a time when Kings were chosen by their prowess on battle, bravery and ability to stay back, so the ones who needed aid would flee and be safe. He was a heroic villain, an flawed hero, he hadn't seen it before but he could now.

With a war cry, a yell of battle frenzy ringed as he threw one of the blades on a spirit that got too close, the blade trusting and entering the spirit's body, and then being pulled out in inhumane strength, the body being left open on the forest floor like trash. With a strong pull Pitch took the blade from the spirit's body and it fell on the floor, lifeless. Pitch fighting he never stood to have survivors, he executed mercilessly.

"Pitch!" Tooth called and the Nightmare King was only able to stare as fireballs were thrown in the direction of the Tooth Fairy, that thanks to her wings and agility she evaded to safety.

North clenched his fists as the word was spread between the fire spirits with a simple glance, there was help coming, and they didn't fight anymore with only Pitch and his Nightmares and Fearlings, but the Guardians as well.

"Return!" North just heard as he heard Jack yelling behind him, his fingers tight around the Nightmare's mane and finding an inner strength to yell from nowhere. "Let's go! We got the children!"

North swallowed hard as that got the fire spirit's even more attention and like a fire storm they all rose fists, fire licking around their fingers as they charged. A stronger attack this time. Aiming to them and nothing else. And then the yell.

"RUN!" Was the roar of darkness, like if every shadow suddenly screamed on a mass of voices, all different and at the same time alike, screaming perfectly on unison, on a terrifying screech. Shadows knew better, they weren't dumb, they never feared, but they were masters of self-preservation. They knew it was time to flee.

Jack seemed the first to understand, the attention was on them, Pitch would have time to flee if they ran now, and if they wanted to live, they had to move now. The Nightmare almost pushed everyone as it turned around and ran, the Guardians not far behind.

Fire licked at their feet and on some of them, on the spot they were just few seconds ago, burning trees and grass like if it was dry hay, the conflagration swallowing everything that it touched and more.

His heart was on his mouth, almost jumping off, and North couldn't do nothing against it, besides keep running. And if the spirits went behind Pitch again, forgot about them? A fireball that hit his enchanted coat showed it was a lie, yet he couldn't stop worrying. He never left one behind, he never fled when there was still one to be rescued, but here he was, running, and even if his heart argued, he wasn't going to stop running until he fell dead, or one of his friends.

And if Pitch was down right now? Just because he didn't see the fall, it didn't mean anything? No, the fact he wasn't there made it even worst. Jack lead them deeper into the forest, where the trees were thick and the fire spirits couldn't keep on by the wind, instead choosing to fly close to the floor.

The Nightmare was fast as a bolt and never stepped wrong, was like if the hard forest landscape was nothing to it, like if it didn't even touched the floor. Jack had tears running down his eyes, so did Tooth, and North had to voice that pain.

"And Pitch?! We will really leave him?!" North yelled, and he could see Sandy shaking his head, both serious as apologetic, like if he knew of something the others did not, while Bunny was startled, but still on his senses.

"The fire spirits ar' behind us! Pitch fled already! Save yourself North!" Bunny yelled and North's blood boiled. Really boiled, like water on the fire. He doubled his pace and got his hands on the fellow's shoulders, before lifting him and slamming a fist on his jaw. Sandy and Tooth braked, surprised and scared with that, but rage was almost slipping out of North on the form of strength and tears.

"Stop thinking for yourself for five minutes! He can be dead now and you don't even fake that you care! If he did die, I'm sure you didn't deserve his sacrifice!" North roared as loud and as angry as his body and psyche permitted, and not far he could see the Nightmare almost joining him on that, making the Guardian of Hope pay. Sandy waved angrily back, but North ignored that with the hint of shock and anger on Bunny's face.

His claws buried on his hand and North released him hard on the floor. "Sorry if I don't feel any sympathy for an enemy that tried to kill me and my friends, frighten the whole world to feed his powers!" Bunny yelled as loud as North and when North was going to hit another blow on the Pooka, a fireball bought him back to the reality and dangerous situation. He turned back, only to see the fire spirits making a circle around them, using their disagreement as advantage.

North regretted nothing, he wasn't going to leave that pass without defending Pitch. Exactly as the circle that the spirits made around Pitch, now they made around the Guardians. Jack put the places of his staff on his pockets as he touched the shadows of the Nightmare, and from it a spear of shadows appeared.

North knew not where Jack learned to do such things, but the spear had a long blade and seemed able to cut bones like butter, not one to mess with, since Jack was really used to fight with long weapons, such as his staff.

"Poor Boogeyman, his distraction worked for nothing, it seems. I love Guardian's foolishness." A woman said and darted towards, meeting Tooth's blades on a combat of scimitar against sabers, and the fire spirits closed up, the closest ones fighting, the ones far throwing fire.

North thanked that he had picked his enchanted coat, enchanted against fires, frost and dust, for by now, he would be naked. He raised his swords and ran to the combat, where everyone sort of did something of their own.

Bunny showed how deadly a boomerang could be by simply knocking the spirits out with it, besides the poisoned eggs, while Sandy made a vicious with his sand whips and Tooth with her sabers.

Jack fell into synchrony with the Nightmare as it moved and Jack attacked, evading fire and weapons, while wounding spirits and keeping them away. North danced with his swords, a gift he never forgot to mention, one that he liked the most, and one that was absurdly useful in times like those.

They bought, and he just stopped when he failed. They were many, now more than thirty, and the fact he fought more than one at once made him an easy prey. The sword of the fire spirit was almost entering his body, when it stopped. The spirit's mouth fell open to leave a gurgle of blood, before falling to its side, body without head.

When North rose his eyes, he was more than delighted. With one leg on a strange angle, skin burned and wounds open and bleeding, Pitch stood behind the corpse, his breath accelerated and pupils large, but besides that not even bothered by taking a life.

"I thought I said run!" He yelled angrily at the Guardians before North grabbed him by the waist and pulled him to his side, saving his from a deadly blow that was going to pick him off guard. Pitch hissed as he moved the scythe and buried it on a spirit's head, before taking it and burying again on another spirit. "I thought death had taken you!"

North yelled over the sound of battle and war cries. "Not yet." Pitch muttered, as he jumped over a spirit and attacked the one behind him, while taking off the head of said spirit with a dagger that wasn't on his hand two seconds ago.

Maybe he should say something about the killing and the forever slaughtering, but in that battle he didn't think any more about mercy or pity, for his enemy didn't. Leave Pitch take their souls, be the grim reaper for one day, the Guardian of Wonder was simply too happy for his Boogeyman to be alive at least. He could deal with it. If he survived it of course. So now they fought. They fought until a scene got his attention. Bunny with a sword on his chest, many burns on his body already.

His four pawns touched the floor, as he dealt with the pain of the wound. Tooth and Jack were far, fighting for their own hides, and he was the only one that noticed, but was too far to react at the time.

The world slowed down as a fire spirit raised its sword, ready to take the head out of the Pooka, as a mighty prize. North's heart beat as fast as the beats of a dragonfly's wing. There was no time to help, he wasn't close enough. The only with some time to react was Pitch, that was half on the way to Bunny.

Except for the fact that he was down in his way as well. The Boogeyman buried his nails on his own head, a snarl of pure pain on his face as he stared at Bunny in pure rage, pain and something animal about it.

His eyes were completely black now, no iris, no pupil, no reflex, no color, only black as blood was spilled out of his lungs and his mouth opened on a silent roar in a way physically impossible to a human, like if his jaws had changed inside and mouth widened, giving North a show of his sharp animal teeth wet with blood that was spilled from him like if he drowned on it.

Pitch's body arched, knees bowed as one hand touched the floor and he lowered his head, lowering like if he was going to speed off on the fastest sprint of his life. Maybe he was. But what happened North wasn't waiting for. He never waited for something of the sort, was never ready for it, and would never be.

There wasn't a single enemy now. There were two.

**C-C-Cliffhanger! Who review c-c-combo breaker will get an imaginary hug. **

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